


One More Tomorrow

by pieckaboo



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apartment AU, Aren't we all?, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward Tension, Blue Collar!Porco, But it gets better!, Car Accidents, Dog Lover!Pieck, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Fitness Instructor!Pieck, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lots of awkwardness, Movie References, Porco-centric, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, poor coping mechanisms, sensitive subject matter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieckaboo/pseuds/pieckaboo
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Porco moves into the Liberio Apartments to start anew. He's able to lay low for a while, avoiding his friends and family to focus solely on picking up the pieces of his life. Until he meets his eccentric neighbor, Pieck...If there's one thing he learns from their relationship, it's that life is chock-full of the unexpected.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic! And this time it's Pokkopikku!  
> SnK 103 kind of f*cked me up, and I don't mean to spoil anything if you haven't read it, but let's just say I'm conflicted.  
> I might regret writing this... who knows... but I've been working on this fic since January and I already have several chapters written out soooooooo I might as well just keep going.
> 
> This is going to be a long one lol but the good news is I know how this ends so writer's block shouldn't be a hassle.  
> Anyway, read, review, and enjoy! I'm dying to know what y'all think !!! D:

The first time he saw her was when he moved into his new apartment on the outskirts of Marley.

Porco hadn’t brought many things with him, having left most of his belongings at the Galliard family home. His lifestyle thus far had been relatively nomadic. He’d grown accustomed to bouncing from place to place, never truly settling down at any particular residence for longer than a few months- all the while working odd jobs here and there.

Now that he had a steady source of income, he felt it was time to establish himself somewhere that offered respite from the chaotic circumstances surrounding his family; circumstances he’d prefer to avoid. Maybe he just needed to be alone, and make some sort of effort to clear his head.

Only a few boxes remained unopened, idling in sedentary formations on the countertops of the small kitchenette. Porco had spent the last hour unpacking and positioning several fixtures to his liking. His one-bedroom apartment lacked any sort of personal touch, though he wasn’t exactly keen on insignificant matters like interior design.

After stuffing the last of his clothes in a chestnut colored dresser, he decided to head out to the balcony for some fresh air. His own private patio offered views of Marley’s city skyline, though its structures were currently covered by a thick layer of clouds. He supposed better views were reserved for the evening, after sunset. Should be clear skies by then.

When he turned his head away from the dismal sight, he was surprised to see he wasn’t the only one pining for a brief change of scenery.

Peering out of the balcony from the apartment next door was a girl, clad in an oversized sweater and leggings. Her head was tilted up, arms resting atop the thin railings, and her line of sight was directed toward a park less than a few blocks away. She quickly pulled her raven black hair into a ponytail before resuming her carefree survey of the neighborhood below, still unaware of her new neighbor’s presence.

Porco found the sight rather curious at first, aimlessly pondering what the trivial details of the nameless girl’s life entailed. But then he stopped himself from further speculation. Why was he wasting time with these thoughts? What did it matter? He failed to drum up even a half-assed excuse for doing so, and ultimately brushed off the idea of introducing himself. The gesture would serve no purpose, he reasoned.  

Porco walked back inside and returned to the tedious task of unpacking, or what was left of it anyway.

He’d rather keep to himself and focus on picking up the pieces of his life. Insisted on it, really.

This move at least was a good start.


	2. He's Not Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update should be within the next couple of days ;)

_"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."_

_Casablanca, 1942_

* * *

 

A week had passed since he’d first moved into the Liberio Apartments.

Porco had managed to maintain a low profile partly because his work at an auto repair shop scheduled him long, although slightly inconsistent, hours. Aside from that, he rarely ever left his apartment unless it was to hit up the gym or pillage the nearest drug store for the cheapest pack of cigarettes he could find.

After putting in nearly twelve long hours at the shop, he longed for nothing more than a hot shower and the single comforter of his bed. Not in the mood to cook, he opted to order in from the sandwich joint down the block.

He pulled his car up into the lower level parking garage beneath the building, and guided it into a cramped space among the reserved section for occupants of the fifth floor. A rundown mini cooper was parked directly on the white line meant to separate its space from his own vehicle, prompting him to rethink his choice. He muttered an expletive upon discovering it was the only spot left.

Slightly frustrated, Porco exited his car in a huff and hurriedly shrugged off his work jacket, the weight of it rather burdening. It was plastered in dirt and grime that resulted from oil stains and a hefty amount of other related vehicle fluids, and it reeked of cigarettes he had smoked during his mid-shift break. His work shirt underneath had been spared most of the grime save for sweat, and while he had a couple of other shirts exactly like it on standby, this was the only one that had his name stitched on the front pocket. His boss preferred his employees to wear their designated shirts whenever he was in the shop, as was the case for the day, but on days when he was gone, Porco disregarded the bullshit policy completely.

Fatigue wearing him out, he hadn’t realized how sore he was until he strode his way over to the elevator and tapped the call button, waiting patiently with his jacket and keys in hand. Whether it was the gym or work (or both) that was the cause of the strains and tension in his muscles, he couldn’t tell- nor did he care. He only wanted the day to be over. When the elevator arrived, he stepped inside and scanned over the numbers on an adjacent pad, highlighting the corresponding floors of the complex. He thumbed the number ‘5’ and its button lit up in bright gold, prompting him to stand back, mindful of the closing doors.

Before he could so much as let out a deep breath, the elevator came to a stop at the main lobby. Porco made room for the impending extra passenger and braced himself for a possibly awkward encounter. What with his exhausted demeanor and raggedy clothes; his appearance was hardly approachable.

When the doors finally opened, he was met with a vaguely familiar face.

It was the girl from the balcony. His next door neighbor.

With a smile, she welcomed herself aboard and cast a glance at the numbered buttons on the pad. To her surprise, ‘5’ had already been hit.

“Fifth floor?” she asked, turning to face him. She knew everyone on her floor, or at the very least had made their acquaintance. Except for this mysterious stranger before her. “You must be new here,” she deduced.

Porco gave her a single nod. “Yeah,” he replied tonelessly. “Apartment 506.”

It was strange. She seemed even smaller at this distance in comparison to when he’d first seen her on their respective outdoor patios. Indeed, she was short in stature, her head at level with his chest. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, and her oversized sweater and leggings had been replaced with a hoodie and Nike shorts. Her hands were occupied, one gripping a water bottle and the other holding a small duffel bag advertising a local cycle studio in dual large and elaborate logos on either side.

Girl next door smiled at him again.

“I’m 505,” she said, her voice offhandedly chirpy. “We’re neighbors.”

Unbeknownst to her, however, Porco was already well aware.

“Name’s Pieck,” she announced, offering a polite handshake.

Porco hesitated to share his first name in return, especially since it’d been subject to criticism his entire life. So he went with, “Galliard.”

“Isn’t that a last name?” Pieck asked, suspicious.

 _Damn_. “It is,” Porco admitted through a stern visage.

Just then, the elevator came to a stop, and Porco was only frustrated he didn’t have the chance to enforce his personal preference.

Although unintentional, they walked side by side down the hall to their respective apartments, and that’s roughly when Pieck caught a glimpse of the name stitched on his work shirt.

“Well,” she said, mischief in her eye, “Welcome to the neighborhood, _Porco_.”

She left him to stand in a muddle of confusion and headed into her apartment.

Porco peered down at his shirt and frowned. _Shit_. If burning this shirt was a viable option…

He inserted his key into the lock and slowly dragged himself inside his humble little abode, practically aching for a shower. Before relieving himself of the rest of his dirtied attire, he fished his phone out of his pocket-  puzzled to find that he’d missed a few calls.

The caller’s identity belonged to his mother, and she’d left a message after her many failed attempts at reaching him.

His shower would have to wait for now. The last thing he wanted to do was worry either of his parents, _especially_ given the afflicted state of their family. It was the main reason he felt compelled to move out, though he hadn’t admitted that out loud for fear of worsening the situation.

_But really… how much worse could it possibly get?_

Hoping the otherworldly powers of the universe would have mercy on him and not take his sardonic bluff seriously, Porco returned his mother’s call, walking into his bedroom as the phone began to ring.

When she picked up, her voice sounded groggy, like she’d just woken up or was getting over some minor illness.

She’d sounded like that for the past year. Always sick and tired of something. Always stressed or concerned.

“Porco, I called you several times,” she groused. Although their exchange was not in person, Porco could already envision her deepened scowl.

“I was working,” he responded, growing more and more weary. “I told you and dad I got a new job, remember? At the auto shop.”

His mother sighed at that, disappointed no doubt. “You really want to be a mechanic your whole life?” she asked, segueing into one of her usual lectures. “You’re college educated, Porco. Why would you settle for a menial blue collar job? All that education and for what?”

Porco didn’t have the time or patience for this discourse. They’d gone around in circles about this so many times, he’d lost count.

“I make decent money at the shop and I can tolerate the people I work with,” was his only reply.  

That’s all that mattered.

Porco stopped himself from asking a brusque ‘ _is there a reason you called?_ ’ so as not to give her an excuse to accuse him of distancing himself any further than he already had.

Luckily, she changed the subject on her own.

“Fine,” she relented, backing off for now. “If that’s what makes you happy. I just think you can do better.”

Porco felt a pang of guilt gnaw away at him, so he made an effort to sound a little less grumpy. “Is everything okay? You and dad doing all right?”

His mother was quiet on the other end of the line, until…

“You were supposed to call us after you were all moved in to your new place,” she said in a defeated tone, like she had expected to be let down all along.

Porco closed his eyes, vexed. “I know, I know,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve just been really busy.”

Excuses, excuses…

Half-truths, really.

His mother sighed in dejection before a question suddenly arose. “Think you can make time for your family in the coming week?”

That was a bit of a loaded question. “Possibly,” Porco drawled, careful with his word choice so as not to make any sort of promise. “I’ve been meaning to anyway.”

Another half-truth.

“You mean you’ll stop by the house? Your father and I have been wanting to see-”

“No, Ma, I meant I’ve been meaning to visit Marcel.” It certainly had been long enough…

Silence once again intervened, and Porco internally berated himself for how his response came out.

His mother spoke up before he could expand on his previous revelation, further amplifying his regretful state.

“We visited him yesterday.” The bleak tone of her voice had returned, darkening the conversation.

Porco felt his stomach drop. “How is he?” he asked, not expecting anything particularly heartwarming.

The response to that question was always the same. No matter who asked, they would always receive the usual evasive answer from Mr. and Mrs. Galliard. Even if their own son was the one asking.

“Still taking it one day at a time.”

Porco had come to accept that was all that could be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually really excited about writing Porco's POV!
> 
> Hope I'm doing a decent job lol


	3. Misconceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to be consistent with updates!  
> Share your thoughts! Read, review, and enjoy!

_"What we've got here is a failure to communicate."_

_Cool Hand Luke, 1967_

* * *

A little after four in the morning, Porco woke up to the agitating sound of incessant barking.

The creature responsible for the less than graceful wakeup call let out frivolous combinations of ‘ _arf’_ and ‘ _ruff_.’ Its tone bordered on demanding, as though it were lacking attention. With what little deductive skills he had running on minimal hours of sleep, Porco presumed it to be a small breed of dog, finding it hard to believe anyone would want a large breed such as a Labrador or monstrous Great Dane roaming about a tiny one bedroom or studio apartment. Also, the pitch was another dead giveaway. 

Whether or not that was supposed to be a good thing was entirely lost on him and his current groggy state, especially since he was losing precious sleep either way.

“Fuck…” he groaned, irritated. Against his better judgment, he lifted himself from his bed and drowsily threw on an old cotton t-shirt, intent on confronting the source of the noise.

After stepping into a ruffled pair of old slippers, he contemplated nice ways to tell someone they needed to shut the fuck up, suddenly reminded of his early college days living in the dorms. Thank god those days were over.

His limited sight was still adjusting to the darkness of his apartment when he nearly rammed into the side of his dresser, heart rate spiking at the close call. He was fairly certain his hair was a little wild, as per the tossing and turning in his bed, and it was a struggle to keep his eyes more than halfway open.

Obviously, Porco wasn’t in the best of moods.

The barking continued to repeat on an intermittent cycle as he opened his door and quietly exited his apartment, thus allowing him to identify its location fairly quickly.

It was coming from his next door neighbor’s place.

Pieck’s apartment.

This was a really inconvenient way to find out his neighbor had a seemingly untamed and ill-mannered pooch living with her.

_Great…_

In all his bed-head glory, a grumpy Porco raised his fist and began a rapid but short series of knocks against the door of apartment 505, mindful of the others living on their floor.

It took a few moments for his neighbor to answer. Porco could hear her shush the rowdy animal before the door suddenly flung open.

A friendly smile was plastered on her face and she appeared far too alert and coherent than he thought was normal at this hour. On top of that, she was fully decked out in workout gear, a baby blue gym bag slung on her arm. Clearly the girl was an early riser, who also seemed to be on her way out as suggested by the jingling of her car keys in hand.

“Hey, neighbor,” came Pieck’s nonchalant greeting. “What’s up?”

Porco couldn’t tell if it was just his sleep-deprived state of lethargy or some other sort of delusion, but he could have sworn she was practically sparkling.

_What the hell…?_

Unless he was still dreaming, this whole scenario felt awkwardly surreal.

Porco cleared his throat, focusing his attention back to addressing the noise issue- and _not_ on how her athletic hoodie was barely zipped below a generous view of cleavage.

“Pieck,” he began, rubbing his right eye, “are you aware of the time?”

Pieck nodded frantically in response. “Yeah, I know and I’m gonna be late for work if I don’t get a move on-”

“I’m pretty sure the building has a policy on pets causing noise,” Porco interrupted, arms folded across his chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your little friend woke up the entire floor.”

Pieck’s eyes widened at that, guilt-ridden. “Oh my… I’m so sorry!” Pieck repeated her apology a couple more times before lending an explanation. “He gets a little too excited sometimes, but he’s normally on his best behavior! I promise it won’t happen again! Please don’t rat me out to management!”

“Rat you out?” Porco huffed. Did he look like a snitch? Fuck that. “It’s… not that big a deal. Just… try to keep it down.”

“Yes, sir!” Pieck saluted, noticeably relieved. “I really gotta go to work now, so see ya!” She dashed down the hallway and swiftly hit the call button for the elevator, somewhat in a panic. “Again, I’m really sorry and I’ll try to make it up to you later!” she called before descending to the parking level.

Well, if the fifth floor’s inhabitants weren’t already awake, they certainly were now.

Unsure if that was the result he had hoped for, Porco let out a gruff sigh and moseyed on back inside his apartment, shaking his head.

When he slumped back into his queen-size bed, he tried his best to fall back asleep.

Much to his dissatisfaction, he failed.

* * *

How Porco managed to power through his entire ten-hour shift without so much as nodding off for a millisecond was a mystery to him.

In spite of the early morning mishap with his neighbor, he managed to squeeze in an extra hour of sleep before heading to the auto shop. A couple extra shots in his coffee were his only fuel, though he often wondered if he’d been desensitized to its effects back in his early college days. The coffee at his workplace tasted like turpentine but it was the only caffeinated beverage available, aside from energy drinks like Red Bull, but Porco knew better and stayed well away.

After clocking off, Porco checked his phone to see if he had a bombardment of messages from his parents waiting for him. The tally for the day only consisted of three missed calls. Two from his parents, as expected, and one from an old frenemy.

He squinted at the strange words that flashed on his screen.

_One missed call from: Dumbass_

Reiner Braun had tried to call him.

“The hell does he want?” Porco whispered a little too loudly. The breakroom was eerily quiet, therefore a couple of his coworkers had probably heard him muttering to himself, but he was too fixated on his phone to really care.

Porco weighed his options while standing idly by his locker. He could wait to call Reiner until he returned to his apartment, but he hated putting things off because he was bound to forget them. He could just blow him off, but that seemed like a dick-move and although he wasn’t crazy about Reiner, he remembered how close he and his brother had been so he couldn’t resent him all that much.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, placing the call. _Let’s get this over with_.

His phone hadn’t even completed its first ring when Reiner startled him with a far too pleasant, “Porco! How’ve you been?”

_Goddamn…_

Porco regained his composure so as to at least hear the guy out. In an alternate universe, Porco had already hung up on Reiner, but attempting to make positive changes in life was his reality. Unfortunately.

“I’ve been better,” Porco finally replied, retrieving his car keys from his locker. He really wanted to cut this conversation short. “What do you want, Braun?”

Maybe that could’ve come out a bit… nicer. But it’s all about progress not perfection, right?

Reiner maintained an upbeat disposition, having grown used to Porco’s brusque personality over the years. “Just calling to check up on you,” he said. Then, cautiously he added, “It’s been a while since anyone’s heard from you.”

Porco rolled his eyes, wondering why anyone even bothered worrying about him. Was it for his sake… or for _Marcel’s_ sake? The latter seemed most plausible, as Marcel had implored their small circle of friends to look out for him if _something_ were to happen…

“I moved into a new place and got a new job,” Porco replied, hoping that would be enough. “I don’t have a lot of free time on my hands these days.” Not entirely true, but it’s not like anybody would go out of their way to fact check him.

Reiner expelled a sigh on the other end of the line, thinking of what to say next.

Tentatively, he extended a well-meaning invite Porco’s way. “Well, if on the off-chance you’re free this weekend, maybe you can meet up for drinks in the Eldia district?”

Porco wasn’t much of a social drinker- more of a ‘ _I had a shitty day and need to forget it_ ’ kind of drinker if he were to be completely honest. What he found most off-putting about alcohol related activities was that they only seemed to bring out the wild and stupid out of everyone. How and why did such hedonism constitute as fun?

He’d have to consider the pros and cons. There were a few more details he needed to address before finalizing his decision. Such as…

“Who’s all going to be there?”

“Uhhh, me,” Reiner began. “Bertolt. Maybe Annie, if she gets the night off.”

The smaller the group, the better.

“All right,” Porco said, still undecided. “I’ll think about it.” The weekend was three days away, giving him plenty of time to either come up with some sort of excuse not to go or to brace himself for an inevitable headache and awkward conversation.

“Cool,” Reiner replied, attempting to mask his nervousness under the guise of a forced chuckle. “Um… let me know either way.”

“Sure. Bye.” Porco hung up right as he left the breakroom on route to his car in the employee parking lot.

While mindlessly following the usual trajectory outside the shop, memories of Marcel suddenly consumed his thoughts. Memories of better days with him and their parents. Memories of when they would get together with their friends. Memories of when they’d sworn to always be there for one another.

Would it ever get any easier?

Gone were the days of their innocent, haphazard youth. Gone were the days when Porco had a reason to smile. Gone was the future he had hoped for them both.

Gone… but not forgotten.


	4. ...And Your Little Dog, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer-ish chapter, but for good reason :)  
> (More Pieck!)

_"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."_

_A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951_

* * *

 

The fridge was as desolate as an inhabitable planet.

Unless he wanted to live off of spoiled milk and week old leftovers, Porco knew he’d have to go grocery shopping at some point. Work had eaten up most of his free time but when the weekend finally rolled around he made it a priority to pick up a few necessities.

The errand ultimately brought him to a small grocer less than a few minutes’ drive away, and soon he was carrying a shopping basket on one arm while navigating through aisle four. He’d compiled a list before leaving his apartment, ensuring his trip to the store would be as quick as possible. Get in, get out. He’d rather not linger around for too long.

Aisle four led him to the cereal section, where he was faced with his first dilemma of the evening. The Cheerios were on sale, but the Mini Wheats were buy one get one. Decisions, decisions…

Admittedly, he preferred Cheerios but the Mini Wheats would last longer and were definitely the better deal. He could already hear Marcel explain how it was the more cost effective choice, blabbering on and on about the proper way to budget and save money.

_Unbelievable_. Porco couldn’t even look at a fucking cereal box without thinking about his brother. Perturbed by the absurd notion, he tossed two boxes of Mini Wheats in his basket and pulled out his list, ready to move on- and thwart any more thoughts of Marcel.

Coffee. Check.

Canned soup. Check.

Orange juice. Check.

Cereal. Check.

Eggs were next on the list.

Porco commenced a steady pace for the dairy aisle, still deliberating over whether to buy a dozen or half dozen carton. When he rounded the corner to the dairy aisle, he nearly ran into the _last_ person he expected to see. It caught him completely off guard, so much so that his grip on his shopping basket would have been tight enough to choke someone to death.

“Hey neighbor,” Pieck said, seemingly pleased to see him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She was quick to suspend movement of her cart, leaning forward on the cart’s handles amid her stalled position. She appeared to have done quite a bit of shopping, as the cart’s contents consisted of fresh fruit and vegetables, a half-gallon of milk, chicken, and overpriced greek yogurt. Health nut, maybe? _Wait_. There was a single box of Twinkies stashed in there as well. Gotta keep that diet balanced, right?

Porco froze. Maybe he shouldn’t have been all that shocked to see her, as this was the nearest grocery store to their apartment complex. What puzzled him more than anything however was the placid smile on her face. A part of him expected her to resent him for the noise complaint, but that seemed rather juvenile. And now he felt he was being awkward just standing there, eyes darting back and forth between his petite neighbor and her shopping cart.

Luckily, Pieck spared him any further humiliation by extending what she hoped was a formal apology for the previous morning’s mishap.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” she began. “Wish I could’ve offered you a better welcoming.”

Porco tried his best to downplay it all. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal.”

Pieck tilted her head, not quite satisfied with his response. “Well I know I messed up the first impression and all, but I was still hoping I could make it up to you.”

Porco raised a brow, the tense lines of his face softening at that. “That’s not necessary,” he said. Apathy was his cover. Yet for reasons far beyond his understanding, he found himself immensely curious.

Pieck continued with her peace offering in spite of his initial reluctance. “Please, let me make it up to you,” she pled. “You could come over for dinner tonight. I’ll cook something for the occasion.” She paused before concluding the offer he’d be a fool to refuse. “And that way you can meet Meatball!”

Porco furrowed his brows and felt his nose twitch in confusion. “Meatball?”

Pieck let out a soft laugh. “My dog,” she revealed. “The little guy responsible for your unceremonious wake up call.” That was _one_ version of events.

“Oh,” Porco muttered. “ _Meatball_. That’s an… interesting name.” Kind of a dumb name.

“I think it suits him,” Pieck stated with pride. “Anyway, so what d’ya say?”

Porco didn’t have any other plans for the evening. Although he was hesitant to accept her spur of the moment invitation, the idea of not having to cook or order in was a reasonable one. And she lived right next door, so he was hardly going out of his way. Pieck didn’t strike him as a serial killer either so he couldn’t use that as an excuse. It almost seemed impractical to reject her.

He shrugged indifferently. “Um okay…” he relented. “Well what time should I stop by?”

“An hour and a half should be enough time for me to have everything ready,” Pieck replied, a little too eager for his liking.

An hour and a half would also be enough time for Porco to shower and look at least somewhat presentable, as opposed to the hobo look he was currently fashioning. Hobo by his standard anyway, because if he were to walk into the shady part of town wearing the same garb, he’d actually be overdressed.

Porco finally nodded in agreement when he remembered there were perishables in Pieck’s cart, not wanting to keep her any longer than this conversation already had.

“Right,” he concurred. “I’ll see you then.”

Pieck smiled at him once more before pushing her cart towards the checkout stands. Watching her haul the hefty cart away somehow only made her look smaller.

“See ya,” she said with a wave.

* * *

 

Porco had tried on three different shirts when he questioned himself.

Was a button down shirt too serious for the occasion? Would he come off as boring in a plain t-shirt? Was a v-neck too pompous? Why did he even own a v-neck? He sure as hell doesn’t remember purchasing it in the first place.

_Does any of this even matter?_ he thought upon realizing his meticulousness was excessive to the point of insanity.

With that, he tossed the three failures aside and threw on the first thing that caught his eye when he opened the top drawer of his dresser. The long sleeve crew neck shirt was nice and comfy, though his favorite feature was how it emphasized the outlines of his toned arms. He’d certainly exercised them often enough, and the results were satisfyingly reflective of that.

Porco gave himself one last cursory glance in the mirror before vacating his apartment. He locked the door and then promptly made his way to Pieck’s place in 505- an arduous five footsteps away. He could hear faint music streaming inside her apartment as he raised his fist and knocked on the door twice, unable to make out anything more than dull instrumentals.

The music stopped after his knocking, and it wasn’t long before he was welcomed inside.

“You’re right on time,” Pieck said first thing, gesturing for him to enter strange and unfamiliar territory. “You can leave your shoes by the doorway,” she advised, turning to head back into the kitchenette.

Porco watched as she briefly disappeared, then looked below at his feet- only to be humiliated.

Absentmindedly, he’d worn his slippers- and even included socks. The mishap had been lost on Pieck, and Porco was adamant to keep it that way. Not that there was any need to panic, given that he lived literally five feet away.

“Food’s almost ready!” Pieck announced from the other side of the wall separating them. “What d’ya want to drink?”

Porco was about to reply back with ‘water’s fine’ but was suddenly subject to a wild animal attack. Gruff barking was hurled his direction, and soon he found himself cornered by a playfully vicious Corgi. The furball had the typical markings of white and burnt orange, a docked tail attached to a rather voluptuous backside, and golden brown eyes that glowed under the warm lighting in the entryway.

Unsure what to do, Porco stared blankly at the corgi who had yet to cease his sporadic barking, and waited for Pieck to presumably intercept this exchange. (Or come to the rescue, rather.)

“Meatball!” he heard her call from the kitchen. That was enough to get the lively corgi to calm down, but he wouldn’t budge, still cornering Porco in the entryway as though sizing him up.

Porco barely moved a couple feet forward when Pieck reappeared, possibly to ensure Meatball hadn’t mauled their guest for the evening.

She stifled her laughter as best she could upon seeing a tentative Porco, looking as though he was contemplating whether or not to reach out his hand to pet the aggressive mutt.

“He doesn’t bite,” Pieck said, scooping Meatball up into her arms. She turned and faced Porco, utilizing the opportunity to introduce them. “Meatball, this is our new neighbor. Say hi!”

Meatball’s attempt at ‘hello’ came in the form of heavy panting and a casual ‘ruff.’

Porco furrowed his brows. He’d always found it bizarre when people talked to their pets, or worse yet, cooed to them as though they were infants. He internally cringed at the mere thought, confused as to how the domestication of an exceptional species from thousands of years ago resulted in this nonsense.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think the corgi was… dare he say… _cute_. Pieck’s equally amiable smile warranted some semblance of reciprocity at least.

At her urging, Porco extended his hand towards Meatball and began stroking the fur atop his head, hoping to earn the dog’s trust. Any hostile thoughts Meatball previously had seemingly disappeared after a few gentle pats, and now the dog moved on to bestowing sloppy kisses on Porco’s hand.

“Awww! Isn’t he such a good boy?” Pieck tutted.

Apathy clouded Porco’s features, contrast to the inexplicable warm feeling rising in his chest. _He’s not so bad, I guess._

Pieck chuckled, planting a kiss on Meatball’s furry head. “I think you two will get along just fine.”

After their proper introduction, Pieck set Meatball back down and implored Porco to follow her into the kitchen. “I’ll start setting up the table,” she said, leading the way. “You can wash up in the sink and rid your hands of all the Meatball germs.”

Porco had trouble taking the dog’s name seriously. How could _anyone_ take it seriously? Maybe that was the point? It certainly amplified the ridiculousness of… everything. Some people might find it amusing, or adorable even. He just thought it was stupid.

If he had a dog, he reasoned, he would name it something sensible with a touch of class like Charlie or Stella.

_Okay, maybe that sounds pretentious_ … but Meatball?!

Porco dismissed his slightly judgmental thoughts and washed his hands in the kitchen sink, ridding them of all the Meatball germs. By the time he’d started drying his hands off with a towel Pieck returned to the kitchen, finished setting the table.

She grabbed a couple glasses from the pantry and filled them with water, to which Porco quickly offered his assistance.

“I can take those,” he said confidently.

“Why thank you.” Pieck carefully handed them over and moved on to bringing out the salad, then the bread rolls, and then a few condiments. Finally, she was ready to transfer the main dish to the table; Spaghetti. (Spaghetti _with meatballs_ to be exact, which disturbed Porco for reasons he was too embarrassed to admit.)

Once Porco had settled himself at the table, Pieck sought to create a relaxing ambiance to avoid sitting in silence. Soon, the music he’d heard prior to entering the apartment was back again, enveloping the calm dwelling in a docile and quiet melody. Porco recognized the faint vocals of the artist. Something new he learned about Pieck: she liked _Fleetwood Mac_.

With Meatball following behind, Pieck joined Porco and situated herself across from him.

She cleared her throat before making an announcement; her audience consisting of one corgi and one tentative neighbor.

“Dinner is served,” she declared, proud of her handiwork.

Porco momentarily put conversation on hold to dive into the hearty pasta and bread rolls. Pieck on the other hand started off with a small serving of Caesar salad, all the while curiously watching her guest for any signs indicating how he felt about her cooking. After allowing a few beats of silence to pass, she obliged herself and pried into the unknown details of his life.

“So, Porco, tell me,” she began. “What do you do for work?” That was the easiest way to break the ice. Talk about boring things like work. She’d have to exercise patience for now, and _then_ she can start getting weird.

Porco finished swallowing down a mouthful of spaghetti, and reached for the napkin underneath an array of utensils, wiping the corners of his mouth like the good guest his mother raised him to be.

“I work on cars,” he replied. “At an auto repair shop on Marley Ave.”

Pieck nodded, vaguely familiar with that part of town. “How do you like it?”

“It’s all right. The pay’s decent… and it’s definitely better than most jobs I’ve had in the past.”

“Really?” Pieck asked, curious. “And what jobs were those?”

Porco grimaced a bit, shuffling through various memories as his gaze fell to Meatball, who was currently begging for table scraps. “I waited tables for a couple years. Hated it. Then I was a bartender for a while. Hated that. So I took an automotive technician training program for a few months, got my certificate, and that about brings us to now.” When he looked back up at Pieck, he was met with an amused grin seared on her face.

“You waited tables?” she asked, like she’d missed some sort of punchline.

Porco expelled a deep breath, nodding. “When I was in college. Seemed practical at the time, but I really hated it. Both gigs kind of soured my outlook on working with food and beverage.” And people, for that matter.

Pieck apparently found that to be fascinating. She hadn’t really pegged him as the type. He gave her more of a grumpy ‘back off’ kinda vibe. Like a tattoo artist, or something. In spite of that assumption, she opted against pressing the subject any further. One shouldn’t judge a book by its cover anyway.

“That sucks. People who work in the service industry are so underappreciated,” she went with instead, swirling spaghetti noodles with her fork. “But I’d like to think some jobs are character-building. And when you finally attain your career goals or land your dream job, you just appreciate it so much more.”

There was truth in that. At least, there _had_ to be.

Porco wasn’t entirely sure if he’d fully attained his own career goals. Some days, it honestly felt like he was just getting by, but the setting was hardly an appropriate time to brood over such matters, so he discarded any thoughts pertaining to his existential crisis.

“What about you?” he asked, reversing the question in an attempt to keep their discussion on an even keel. He was interested in learning more about his eccentric neighbor and her equally eccentric pet. “What do you do for work?”

Pieck wasted no time responding. “I’m a stripper.”

Porco nearly choked on his bread roll, startling Meatball. Pieck’s subtle laughter soon followed suit, prompting him to wonder if he’d fallen for her tasteless joke. If she was serious, however, he wouldn’t really know how to carry on with the rest of the evening without thinking about it every two seconds.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Pieck dismissed casually. “I’m a fitness instructor at a cycling studio.”

Porco was inexplicably relieved, then it suddenly dawned on him. She was sporting workout gear when they first met in the elevator, _and_ when he made the noise complaint about the barking the previous morning. She more than likely taught early morning classes.

“How long have you been doing that for?” Porco asked after sipping from his water glass in recovery.

Pieck tilted her head in assessment. “Two and a half years,” she replied, preparing a confession of sorts. “Before that, I went to school for physical therapy.”

Porco lifted a brow. ‘ _Why are you wasting your time as a fitness instructor when you have a college degree?’_ is what he wanted to ask her, but then he remembered how he loathed it whenever his mother chided him for choosing to be a mechanic in spite of his own academic achievements- and thus held off.

“No luck on the job hunt?” he asked alternatively, playing the polite card.

“Well, not exactly,” Pieck began, leaning back into her seat. “After graduation, I looked into a few places and was offered a job at small clinic, but an old friend of mine was opening up his own cycle studio and offered me a position first thing. I was more than happy to hop on board.” She paused before further clarifying, “I don’t get paid as much, obviously, but it’s enough to keep the water running and the lights on. And honestly, I love what I do.” She turned her attention to Meatball, who had sophisticatedly positioned himself in a begging stance. “Plus, I have more free time to spend with this little cuddle monster.”

Porco had mixed feelings on the matter, acknowledging they were somewhat in the same boat. “Do you plan on pursuing physical therapy?”

Pieck nodded. “Eventually,” she admitted. “I plan on making good use of my college education. I’m just kind of going with the flow. Enjoying what life throws at me, I guess. Not really in a hurry to ‘launch my career’.” She looked back up at him and returned his query. “Think you’ll be working on cars for life?”

Porco certainly hoped not. “I don’t know,” he confessed, evasive. “But I’d like to establish myself at the shop for a while. I just need to get into a routine and some sense of normalcy, if nothing else.”

“Routine is good,” Pieck affirmed. “Some people think it gets boring after a while, but not me. Especially not when Meatball keeps my routine interesting.” 

When Meatball’s begging had subsided, due to his failure in receiving any scraps, Porco sought to gain insight regarding the friendly furball.

“I assume you’ve had him for some time now,” he said.

“Since he was a puppy,” Pieck chirped, nostalgic. “I got him at a shelter before moving here.”

“Rescue, huh?” Porco said, biting into his bread roll.

“Yup!” Pieck enthused. “Though the real question is; who rescued who?”

Porco facepalmed himself, suppressing the half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Fuck, it had been a while since he’d felt that.

“I’m serious. Pets can really change your life.” Pieck chuckled, noting his slightly humored slightly disdainful expression. “I can’t imagine my life without him.” She paused before adding one last sentiment. “And I think he’s destined for greatness. I can feel it.”

Porco rolled his eyes at that. “Pieck, he’s a dog. Not the messiah.”

“I didn’t mean it to _that_ extent,” Pieck sighed. “I was referring to his athletic abilities.”

_Athletic abilities?_ “As in… Frisbee toss competitions?”

“Nope.”

“Agility trials?”

“Not quite.”

“The… puppy bowl?”

“He’s too old for that,” Pieck replied, thoroughly entertained by his guesses. “No, sir. Meatball’s forte is Corgi racing.”

Porco blinked several times, absorbing the revelation the way a parent would if their only child confessed to experimenting with pot. Utterly disappointed.

“Corgi… _racing_?” he repeated. _Is that a legitimate thing?_

Who’s he kidding? Of course it is. People this day and age go beyond spoiling their pets rotten. They practically worship them. Corgi races were probably just another excuse for people to coo over how great their little animal companion was.

Pieck nodded in affirmation. “I try my best to be consistent with his training,” she said. “We go out to the park for drills on average three times a week. But aside from that I walk him every day, of course.”

“Quite a commitment,” Porco said in place of telling her she was nuts- although her spirited demeanor was surprisingly adorable. He was taken aback by how genuine and optimistic she became while discussing her prized pooch’s achievements and potential.

He kind of envied her in that regard.

Pieck raised her glass, as though preparing a toast. With a proud smile, she expressed her high hopes for the future and declared, “He’ll be a champion yet.”

* * *

 

After dinner, Pieck offered Porco the grand tour of her humble abode.

Given that the small one-bedroom apartment was about six hundred square feet, the tour lasted all of but ten seconds. She motioned towards the patio, referring to the outdoor space as the ‘lanai,’ but admitted that she hadn’t much use for it other than to take in the occasional half-decent view of the city. Porco was briefly taken back to the first time he saw her when his gaze came across the familiar railing. She hadn’t noticed him that day, but he had certainly noticed her. Why the memory had come back to him in that moment was a mystery; one he wouldn’t question.

To distract himself, he turned to a collection of photos on the wall adjacent to her bedroom. Based on the evidence he’d gathered, he reached several conclusions. Pieck was an only child. Parents were still together. Loved the outdoors. And special, unrelated bonus: Meatball was oddly photogenic.

There were a few photographs scattered nearby the kitchen counter. Some were family photos, others were snapshots of Meatball dashing through fields of green grass. But one in particular seemed to stand out from the rest. It featured Pieck and a slightly older gentleman sporting a full beard and round shaped glasses, his arm around her waist.

Porco didn’t want to seem nosy, so he quickly tore his eyes away to prevent himself from the tempting prospect of scrutinizing the photo down to every last millimeter. He struggled with the frustrating urge for a moment before settling on calling it a night, knowing he should rest up for work the next day.

“I should turn in,” he told her, expressing minor regret. “It’s getting kinda late.”

Pieck concurred with a yawn. “Alrighty. I’ll walk you out,” she offered.

Porco followed Pieck to the entryway and quickly shuffled back into his slippers. Thankful she hadn’t noticed the ratty old pathetic excuse for footwear, he turned to address her one last time.

“Thanks again for dinner,” he said.

Pieck gave him an endearing smile, tucking a loose stray of hair behind her ear. “T’was my pleasure,” she said in return.

Porco gave her a nod and turned to open the door. He’d only made it halfway out when he was suddenly stopped.

“Hey,” Pieck said quickly, prompting him to look back at her expectantly. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Falling short of anything to say in response, Porco merely nodded once more.

Then, in a voice almost uncharacteristically quiet, he managed to depart with something a bit more meaningful.

“Goodnight, Pieck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to think of a name for Pikku's pup. Then I remembered Reiner's meatsack thing in SnK 103 and was like 'how about Meatsack?'  
> Because it seemed so wholesome at the time. Until I came to my senses- and thus Meatsack became Meatball.  
> Idk, Meatballs remind me of Pork and that reminds me of Porco...  
> My mind's a jumbled mess at times.
> 
> Anywayyyy more chapters on the way!


	5. Liquid Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters! Drunken shenanigans! Porco is a mess!
> 
> Read, review, enjoy!

_"I am serious. And don't call me Shirley."_

_Airplane, 1980_

* * *

Porco hated his job at times, but he took it all in stride.

There were good days and there were bad days. Plain and simple.

Today had sort of been a bad day, ultimately swaying him to finally take Reiner up on his offer for drinks.

Against his better judgment perhaps, Porco’s choice in conceding to Reiner’s desperate invitation eventually led him to a shady yet wildly popular bar only a few blocks from his workplace; making it all the more convenient to blow off some steam.

Reiner had been there waiting for him, already a couple of drinks in. When Porco ambled inside the joint, he was surprised to see another old friend had tagged along, currently in the middle of a heated pool match with the stocky blond.

“I see Bertolt can still outclass you,” Porco said when he reached the billiards table. “You really gotta pick up a new strategy, Braun.”

Reiner looked up from the white ball set in his sights, staggered by the sudden emergence of the younger Galliard brother. Unsuccessful in deciding what his next move should be, he momentarily dismissed his tactical thoughts in favor of greeting Porco’s arrival.

“Porco,” he began, making his way over from the table, “Wow… you actually showed up tonight.”

“I said I would,” Porco snorted. “Besides, I had a shit day at work so I could really use a drink.”

“Hey, it’s on me tonight,” Reiner insisted, handing Porco his cue stick. “I’m getting my ass handed to me so you can take over while I head to the bar.” Before excusing himself, he added, “What are you having? The usual?” If he could remember what ‘the usual’ was, that is.

Porco wasted no time responding. “Something strong,” he replied. There was no use easing himself into it. He wasn’t really here to socialize. He was here to get plastered.

Reiner gave a single nod before heading off. “All right then… Have fun taking on Bert.”

Porco huffed, slipping off his jacket in an effort to alleviate himself from the unexpected warmth of the establishment. He picked up the cue stick, feeling the familiar weight of its hilt in his palm. It’d been too long since his last match.

Bertolt waited patiently. “You ready?” he asked after giving him a moment.

“Sure,” Porco replied. “Rack ‘em up.”

While Bertolt worked on setting up a new match, placing each colored ball in the triangle formation, Porco took his position on the opposing side of the table. Once Bertolt was done, he allowed for Porco to shoot first.

By the time Reiner had returned, it was still too early to tell who had the advantage over who. From what he gathered, Bertolt and Porco were pretty evenly matched. For now…

Porco held off from strategizing his next turn to throw back a shot of- _what the fuck is this? Tequila? Who fucking cares?_ \-  One most certainly would not be enough, and luckily Reiner had kept that in mind.

“I ordered a couple extra shots-” Reiner said, watching as Porco quickly interjected and wasted no time in obliging himself. “For fuck’s sake…”

“I’m not a lightweight like you,” Porco retorted, snubbing Reiner’s look of disapproval. “This oughtta give me an edge over Bert.”

Bertolt’s next shot was enough to shut down Porco’s confidence; sending the red ball into the hole and potting the yellow one.

“I’m sorry,” Bertolt deadpanned, still basking in the glorious aftermath of his flawless move. “You were saying?”

“Shit,” Porco muttered to himself. He feared the match might come to that- but not as much as he feared for the conversation to shift to current issues.

When it did, however, he was hardly shocked.

“Sooooooo,” Reiner began, clearing his throat, “Aside from work being shitty and all… how have you been? How’s the new place?”

Porco mumbled another expletive before responding. “The new place is all right,” he said. “And for as much as I might bitch about work, it’s really not _that_ bad.”

“But it’s obviously not something you want to do for the rest of your life,” Reiner said. “Hell, I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m in the same boat. I can’t stand working as a security guard at the mall. It feels like I’m wasting my time.”

“Then quit,” Porco said curtly, taking his next shot. He’d angled it just right, managing to lodge the green down the hole. At this point, he only wanted to keep up.

“Can’t do that just yet. Still got bills to pay,” Reiner said with an expression conducive to acceptance. “In the meantime, I’m just waiting for my big break.”

“Big break?” Porco asked, the somewhat off-handed remark utterly lost on him.

That’s when Bertolt offered a brief explanation, all the while carefully planning his shot. “Reiner’s recently taken on a part-time gig at KCMW,” he said, eyes leveled flatly with the billiards table. “He’s in talks for his own show on _The Titan_.”

Reiner gave in to the smile tugging at his lips, slightly embarrassed. “Well, as of right now my job title is ‘talk show contributor’,” he downplayed, “but if I do well, the producers might give me a shot on-air. As a trial-run, I guess.”

“You’re being modest,” Bertolt said in encouragement. “You get on really well with your cohorts there. The one time you introduced me to your boss, he practically raved about your potential for the studio.”

Porco scratched his head upon receiving the news, realizing that in between the time spent during his dissociation and his tumultuous family drama, he really had missed a lot. Funny how that works. Even after all the fucked up shit that life throws at you, the world still keeps on turning.

“Congrats,” Porco said, inserting himself back into the conversation. “You _do_ have a face for radio, that’s for sure.”

Reiner finished off what was left of his rum and coke, rolling his eyes. “Thanks.” _Asshole_.

“What about you, Bert?” Porco steered the conversation toward his opponent, hoping to be filled in on the details of what else he probably had missed in his absence. “You ever get around to finding your life’s calling?”

Bertolt nodded. “I work for a social organization that focuses on community development,” he replied. “You might have heard of it. The Coalition for Social Change. Its headquarters is located across from the convention center downtown.”

Porco paused for a moment, suddenly reminded of his brother. “Yeah…” he mumbled. “Marcel’s mentioned it.”

In the past, Bertolt and Marcel had attended the same college together, majoring in sociology and communications respectively. Both had similar career goals, and Marcel had expressed high hopes for working in community outreach programs.

Now, it seemed unlikely.

Reiner heeded Porco’s abrupt silence, intent on easing the billowing tension in the air. He looked over Bertolt first for an inkling of confirmation, careful with his next words so as not to trigger any potential bombs. Eventually, he decided asking directly would be much easier than tiptoeing around the issue. Porco had always preferred the more blunt and straightforward approach to resolving issues anyway.

“How’s… uh…” Reiner began, wincing, “how’s Marcel been?”

 _That_ shifted the mood into something far more serious- dark even.

It also called the need for more booze, Porco thought, but before that…

“He’s… the same,” Porco answered, voice rigid and cold. “No longer hooked up to a million fuckin’ machines, at least.”

Sometimes it’s better to just rip the goddamn band-aid off, isn’t it? Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt though.

Next course of action: change subject. Effective immediately.

Porco didn’t allow for either of his old pals to respond to his morbid revelation, veering the discussion back to his career goals. Or lack there-of.

 _For as much as I hate to admit it…_ “You’re right, Braun,” Porco confessed, a little louder than expected. “I don’t see myself working on cars my whole life. I’m barely invested enough as it. But I’m good at it and it pays well.” End of story.

Reiner attempted to busy him with more questions. Maybe distract him, honestly. “Safe to say you haven’t made a whole lotta friends on the job?”

“It’s _work_. I’m there to get paid.”

So… ‘no,’ is essentially what he meant.

Reiner laughed a harsh beat. “For as much as I love being your punching bag, you should give your hardass anti-social façade a rest.”

Porco facepalmed himself. “To say the shop’s ‘loud and grimy’ would be an understatement. Not exactly the ideal place for conversation.” He paused before continuing. “And besides, my coworkers aren’t the kind of guys I’d socialize with outside of work.”

Reiner raised a brow, a mischievous, shit-eating grin smeared on his face. “Not your _type_?”

Bertolt elbowed Reiner for his tasteless remark. “Reiner…!”

Porco shook his head disdainfully. “Not everyone swings both ways like you, dude,” he countered. “I prefer women.”

A crafty smirk etched itself onto Reiner’s face upon procuring an idea, having pieced it all together. “ _That’s_ why you’re so on edge,” he jested. “The lack of female companionship is getting to you.”

Bertolt purposely messed up his next shot on the billiards table, hoping to divert Porco’s attention away from Reiner’s taunts. “Oops,” he muttered, feigning disappointment.

Normally, there’d be no way in hell Reiner would ever make such ballsy comments or jokes- not when he’s sober anyway. But apparently a little liquid courage was all that was needed for him to open up so carelessly.

That might also explain why Porco had resisted the urge to raise his fists.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Porco was struggling not to mull over the projection too deeply. While he doubted that getting laid would solve even one out of the multitude of his problems, he was disheartened to admit that it had indeed been a while since he’d been intimate with anyone. The last time was a drunken one-night stand; and it was the most mediocre sex he’d ever had in his entire life.

Bad sex is one thing- and one can at least accept it for what it is without question.

But mediocre sex is far more disappointing in that it _could have_ been good- but it wasn’t.

Brushing off the ridiculous thought, Porco returned his gaze to the pool table and prepared his move. Before he could strike the white ball, Reiner hastily shared an uncouth idea, as if to redeem himself.

“Whenever you’re ready, Porco,” he said, words a tad slurred. “We’ll scope out the joint.”

“For what?” Porco wasn’t really paying attention.

“For a lady friend.”

“Didn’t you swear off women a year ago?”

“Not for me.” _You prick_. “For you and your touch-starved suffering.”

“This seems a little… chauvinistic,” Bertolt intercepted, unimpressed.

“Men and women use each other all the time,” Reiner slurred, a small hiccup following suit. “Take my parents for example.”

“That’s a _real_ healthy way of looking at relationships.”

“Who said anything about relationships?” Reiner turned to address Porco, patting him on the back. “This guy just needs to blow off some steam. Now come on, let’s get to it.” He strolled ahead of him, encouraging him to follow.

Porco’s buzz was wearing off, and he desperately yearned for more. But he knew the only way to mooch any more drinks off the stocky blond would be to compromise. Fuck it. He’d do anything for the sensational burn at this point.

“Fine,” he relented, falling in step with Reiner. “But first thing’s first. More booze.” And lots of it.

“Deal,” Reiner replied with a chuckle. “Bert, you gotta tag along with the search.”

Bertolt wildly shook his head, eyes consumed with dread. “No way. Annie would kill me.”

At least Reiner was level-headed enough to respect that. Albeit, reluctantly so. Though the truth was, Annie would probably come after him, too, if she were to find out.

“Whatever,” he grumbled with a shrug. “You get a free pass. _This_ time.”

With that, Reiner and Porco headed for the bar and loaded up on shots. Down the hatch, and away they go. Porco was practically a bottomless pit, leaving an already tipsy Reiner struggling to keep up.

Reiner grimaced before speaking, moving on to the next order of business. “So… let’s narrow it down.” He gestured toward a promising group of women. “Blondes? Brunettes? Red-heads? Help me help you.”

Yup. This is how it works, ladies and gentleman. You just pick and choose from a prospective group.

Porco had always fancied dark-haired ladies, ultimately leading his sights to a petite woman with waist-length jet-black hair across the room. A part of him blamed it on the booze, another part of him thought he was going crazy, but the girl (from behind anyway) strangely resembled his neighbor…

Except, Pieck’s hair wasn’t quite that long. The minor discrepancy didn’t seem to faze him either way, as he quickly finished downing his umpteenth shot of who-the-fuck-knows before rising from the bar stool, alcohol fueling his determination.

Reiner was confused by the sudden urgency. “That was… fast.”

Porco waved him off, demanding that he stay put. “I can do this on my own,” he asserted. “Just lay off.”

Reiner raised his hands in defense, smiling idiotically. “Good luck.” He was ready for a show. The whole escapade might even give him some material to work with for future broadcasts.

In another setting, Porco had already reached his potential match, though the term hardly qualified in this case.

“Hey,” he said, and the gal turned to meet him. She certainly wasn’t Pieck, and he couldn’t help but feel… disappointed? Relieved? A combination of the two?

“Hey there,” she replied, waiting on him to strike up a conversation, however cheap it might turn out to be. Only then did Porco realize he was incredibly rusty.

Despite that, Porco remained cool and collected. “You here with anyone?” he asked, getting straight to the point.

The nameless girl shook her head. “No. How ‘bout you?”

She seemed to be flirting back. This was way easier than he recalled. “No,” came Porco’s terse response. Fuck. Why was he suddenly feeling dizzy? The ramshackle lighting wasn’t helping.

“Maybe we should keep each other company then.” This chick was definitely down for something, but Porco and his drunk ass couldn’t handle the shitty establishment and its pulsating music. His head. His head was starting to throb.

Before he could offer a slew of possible euphemisms to add on to her suggestive comment, she had him on her arm, veering them both toward the bathrooms.

* * *

A thin door slammed behind them, and soon Porco was pushed up against a wall, feeling wet lips trail down from his own and then to his neck. Something felt off. He tried focusing on their sloppy, drunken kissing, but to no avail.

“I don’t even know your name…” he grunted, eyes half-lidded. When he felt her reach for his belt, he figured it might be a little too late for that.

“Do you really need to know?” She almost sounded bored.

Porco huffed. Maybe it was for the best. After all, he’d rather not have to share his own name.

“Nope,” he finally replied, quickly losing interest. His mind started to wander, and the hands on him seemed to disappear. In his inebriated state he thought about ridiculous names, his own included, and wondered if she was like him in that regard. Maybe she preferred anonymity to avoid any tasteless jokes about a measly title.

He began listing off cringe-worthy names as a way to distract himself from the massive brewing headache. People names. City names. Pet names. Fuck, he was so drunk. His muddled compilation kept circling him back to the one of the most ridiculous he’d ever heard. It bothered him.

 _Meatball_.

Meatball.

He vaguely recalled asking something aloud, not caring whether he meant to or not. He was sure whatever he was spewing out wasn’t offensive; mindless rambling perhaps. His head hurt too much to form a coherent thought.

His temporary companion of sorts stopped and looked at him the way one would look at a lunatic. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Good question. It hadn’t even crossed Porco’s mind if what he was about to tell her was an appropriate response- especially right before said person was about to go down on him.

He felt inexplicably numb.

“You kind of look like my neighbor,” Porco sputtered out, barely lucid. “She’s… crazy. And she has this dog…”

Porco was in an entirely different place. Wherever he was, it wasn’t with her. It wasn’t even in this bar. He was gone.

When she tried to ignore his drunken ramblings and re-initiate body-to-body contact, he was mostly unresponsive; as though he’d gone limp.

The girl took a step back, completely dumbfounded. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me… or just completely wasted…?”

Shit. Neither could he.

Losing any and all patience, the potential candidate for a hook-up threw her arms at her sides, tapping her foot to a perturbed rhythm. “Look, do you want to do this or not?” she spat.

Porco failed to answer in time, which resulted in her turning to leave.

“Waste of fucking time,” she mouthed as she bolted out the door.

The loud, angry slam only inflamed the throbbing in Porco’s head.

Alone in the drafty bathroom, he ambled towards the mirror and stared at himself for a solid minute, his headache thickening under the dull lighting and pungent scent surrounding him. He grumbled something unintelligible, sloppily readjusting his zipper and belt.

The room was spinning.

* * *

When he reappeared from his failed attempt at getting it on in the bathrooms, Reiner and Bertolt were waiting for him, eager to hear the news.

“How did it go?” Reiner asked, googly-eyed. “You were only gone for like three minutes tops, but at least it’s something!”

Bertolt on the other hand voiced his concern. “Porco, are you all right?” he asked. “You’re not looking too good.”

“Sorry to disappoint you guys,” Porco replied, disregarding Bertolt’s question. “But nothing spectacular happened. If anything, I probably offended her.”

Reiner’s smile faded. “What? How?”

Porco shrugged. His speech was hazily delirious, and it looked as though he was on the verge of passing out.

Bertolt clasped his hands together. That was a good enough cue to call it a night. “Okay, I think it’s time we get you home,” he declared. He turned back to Reiner and shot him an insistent glare. “A little help?” The look on his face screamed ‘ _this is all your fault_!’ to which Reiner hurriedly aided in transporting a hopelessly intoxicated Porco out of the bar and into his sloppy jalopy. Bertolt snatched the keys from Reiner’s hands and ordered him into the passenger seat.

“But it’s _my_ car,” Reiner groaned.

Bertolt would not back down. “ _I’m_ the designated driver,” he reminded him. With Porco out of earshot, he quietly added, “You’re clearly unfit to get behind the wheel.”

Reiner immediately stopped his attempts at reclaiming his keys, eyes darting to Porco, who’d just passed out in the backseat.

“You’re right,” Reiner admitted, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

The slight ding of the elevator doors seemed to jolt Porco awake, albeit in a hazy blur.

With the help of Bertolt and Reiner, he’d made it back to the Liberio Apartments.

“Fifth floor,” Bertolt announced upon arrival. “Which room?”

Porco, still using both figures to support his lethargic walking, spoke up for the first time since leaving the bar. “506,” he said.

“Keys?” Bertolt asked once they’d reached the door.

“Back pocket,” Porco told him.

Bertolt slapped Reiner’s hand away when the blond made a comical gesture toward the location in question. “Got ‘em,” he said after making the quick retrieval.

He put the key into the lock and turned it, prompting the door to fly open.

“So this is the new place,” Reiner said, taking in his surroundings. He let out a low whistle. “Not bad. Could use a house plant or something though.”

After a wave of sloppy movements and near mishaps, Porco was inadvertently flung on his bed face first, a deep sleep looming over him.

“Hope you had fun tonight, bud,” Reiner said, draping a blanket over him endearingly.

“…fuc… youu…” was Porco’s response, his voice muffled by a fluffy pillow.

“I think he said ‘goodnight,’” Reiner smiled, ushering Bertolt out the room with him. “I’ll text you in the morning, Porco.”

“Night.” Bertolt bid Porco farewell and then vacated the apartment, Reiner by his side.

As soon as they were gone, Porco could feel the heavy pull of sleep drift him away further and further. He willed himself to keep his eyes even halfway open, but ultimately gave in to the sweet release of drunken slumber.

The last thing he thought of before everything faded to black was the face of a white and orange furred corgi, panting heavily as though mocking him. Smug little bastard.

Porco was really gonna feel it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have reviewed and given kudos! I really appreciate it!


	6. Follow You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to upload this chapter before I head off for birthday fun stuff so here's another update, lovelies!  
> SnK 104 was a lifesaver! That's all I'm gonna say about that! Ooof!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the fluff and angst ahead!
> 
> Read, review, enjoyyyyy!

_"Just keep swimming."_

_Finding Nemo, 2003_

* * *

Miraculously, Meatball only barked once that morning.

Yet it was still enough to jolt Porco awake, as well as trigger a throbbing headache.

Slowly, he lifted himself from the bed, his neck strained from the awkward position in which he slept. He rubbed the back of his neck on route to the bathroom, nursing the painful sensation below the pulsating tension in his head. He looked himself over in the mirror, relieved to find there were no hickies or other questionable bruises. The absence of a black eye revealed he hadn’t gotten into any fights; another good sign.

His memory of the night before was decent for the most part, though it started getting hazy right after his second round of back-to-back shots with Reiner. It was coming back to him, slowly but surely. Reiner’s less-than-enticing proposition to get him laid had seriously backfired, although Porco acknowledged his inebriated state was mostly to blame. He may have prided himself in being able to hold his liquor, but even he had his limits.

Porco stopped analyzing himself in the mirror and stood back, eyes darting toward the toilet. He hadn’t felt the urge to puke his guts out, which (turned out) was neither good nor bad. If it would help relieve even an ounce of his headache, he’d be all for it at this point. Fuck it. Maybe a shower would help. A part of him wanted to clean up, and rid himself of-

 _Oh shit_ … Now he remembers!

He royally fucked up his chances of hooking up with Jane Doe.

The memory of the disaster felt so surreal, like it was some sort of out-of-body experience. Maybe he was exaggerating a bit but the incident would definitely be hard to live down. Had he been sober, he wouldn’t have been half-assed to care about the slight resemblance of his neighbor and much less about her little rat. But often times, his drunk belligerence led his thoughts to peculiar places.

Porco didn’t concern himself with why his contemplations took him to La la land, but as long as they were far from brooding over his family, he wouldn’t question it.

Anything to get his mind off his brother was much appreciated.

Like a shower, for instance.

He took his time stripping away each layer of clothing, tossing them aside into a pile behind him. When he stepped inside the small enclosure, he welcomed the barrage of water streaming from the overhead apparatus, closing his eyes as warm steam surrounded him.

After washing up, Porco dried off and moseyed on over to his closet, towel wrapped around his waist. He quickly dressed in the first thing that caught his eye and took one last glance in the mirror, fixated on his hair. It was still damp from the shower, and he hadn’t the desire to style it the way he normally would. It was his day off, and he had no intentions of leaving his apartment- especially not when he was wallowing away in the remnants of a hangover.

In an effort to nurse his slight discomfort, Porco debated over what to have for breakfast, and what would be most beneficial in that regard. He didn’t have many options, narrowing his choices down to either eggs or cereal. He remembered hearing about how egg yolks could ‘cure’ a hangover, but wasn’t he supposed to mix it with something in a blender?

That sounded gross.

It was also probably bullshit.

Right as he was about to whip out his half empty box of mini wheats, he heard the faint buzzing of his phone against the kitchen counter.

At first he figured it was Reiner, calling to check on him from the previous evening’s shenanigans. When he peered over at the screen, however, he lost his grip on the cereal bag, its contents spilling over the counter.

Porco reached for his phone after letting out a perturbed groan and answered its multitude of rings. “Dad,” he said, straining for words. “…hi…”

“So _now_ you answer your phone.” His father skipped the ‘hello’ part of the conversation and got right to it. “Your mother tried calling you last night.”

Porco was well aware. “My phone died,” he lied. What else was he supposed to say? That he got super hammered at a bar the night before? Should he mention his failed sexual encounter, too?

Goddamn. He was twenty-four years old. When were they going to stop treating him like he was twelve?

Never. “You have a charger,” Mr. Galliard countered. “Don’t you?”

Porco’s headache was worsening. Again. “Sure do,” he drawled. “Anyway, does mom still want to talk to me or…?”

“She wanted to ask if you would have breakfast with us this morning,” was just about the last thing Porco wanted to hear. “She worries about you, you know.” That, too.

“ _This_ morning? As in… right now?” Porco asked, hurriedly sifting through possible excuses to weasel his way out of this one.

“Of course.”

“I don’t know… I’ve got a lot of errands to-”

“The Liberio Apartments, right?”

“…what?”

“You live at the Liberio Apartments. The complex off of Fritz Street?”

Only then did Porco realize his father wasn’t paying much attention to his excuses.

“Yeahhh…” Porco’s voice trailed off suspiciously.

“Perfect!” Mr. Galliard enthused. “Looks like we made it!”

Porco was grateful for the distance the phone call put between them, or else his father would’ve bore witness to the most terrified expression ever known to man.

 _Oh, god, no_.

“Come again?”

“We’re here,” his father repeated. “Your mother and I just parked right outside the building.”

The headache may as well have been an aneurysm.

“Hello?” His father was insistent. “Aren’t you going to invite us up?”

Porco had no choice but to concede defeat. With a sigh, he quickly lowered the phone to his side and banged his head against the wall a few times, hoping to wake himself up from what had to have been a bad dream.

When that failed, he held the phone against his ear once more and forced out a dejected, “Yeah… just give me a sec. I’ll… meet you down in the lobby.”

“Okay, see you soon.” His father hung up, presumably to make his way into the building with the Missus as well.

Porco had approximately three minutes to make himself look mildly presentable, or hide the fact that he was hungover at least. On the bright side his apartment was clean. It didn’t have much to begin with, only the bare necessities, but clean nonetheless.

It took one minute to fix his hair- nothing fancy but good enough.

One minute to pick out and throw on a jacket.

And another to find his keys, hop into the elevator, and head down to the lobby.

That left no time to plead with some form of higher power to grant mercy on his soul.

* * *

After offering his parents a quick tour of his apartment, (which consisted mainly of his mother’s off-handed but well-meaning advice to spruce the place up a bit) Porco found himself in a booth at a nearby brunch café.

He sat opposite his parents, contributing small fragments of conversation that varied from ‘yes’ to ‘no’ and other ways to voice apathy in two syllables or less. Every now and then he’d peer out the café’s window, watching as cars drove by. For a brief moment he lost himself to the inward musings of his brother. The empty seat next to him served as a reminder of how incomplete their family truly felt.

Table for four suddenly became table for three.

The dwindling conversation seemed to emphasize that, which prompted Porco to make an attempt to fill in the silent gaps after he’d finished his Belgian waffle. He figured he owed it to his parents to at least try to keep them in the know. They’d all been through so much in the past couple years, and distancing himself from his parents would only make things worse.

“How’s work, dad?” Porco asked, setting his fork aside. He certainly preferred _not_ to talk about himself.

Mr. Galliard was still working on his plate, but paused to answer. “I’ve been taking a lot of time off recently, but all in all the firm’s been doing well.”

Porco could assume why.

Before he could ask his mother how the real estate business was going, she surprised him with a question of her own.

“I know you must be busy with work and settling in your new place,” she began, lowering her head, “but have you managed to see your brother at all?”

A pang of guilt rose in Porco’s chest, and he deterred his gaze to the small ripples in his coffee. He used to be pretty consistent with his visits, but with everything that had been going on as of late it was proving more and more difficult to see Marcel. Porco had been putting it off and distracting himself to avoid the bouts of depression that were soon to follow.

He always hated having discussions like this. Now he felt obligated to see his brother- and that feeling was so much worse because he shouldn’t feel obligated; he should genuinely want to see Marcel. But he couldn’t share his true concerns with his parents. They might misconstrue his words and accuse him of being selfish.

For the sake of avoiding any and all conflict, he opted to be elusive with his response.

“I plan on visiting him soon,” he told his parents.

Even he believed it.

* * *

Porco watched as his parents drove away and disappeared down the street before heading into the main lobby of the Liberio Apartments.

They departed with the usual, “Give us a call if you ever need anything,” to which he always replied with a meaningless, “I will.”

And when his mother expressed a despondent, “I love you,” all Porco could do was offer a saddened half-smile in return.

 _Love you, too_. But the words never followed.

Porco rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, mulling in surprise over how well breakfast with his parents had gone in spite of his initial reluctance and slight state of ailment. His headache had mostly dissipated by way of the hearty meal resting in his stomach and the sedentary act of quietly sitting in a booth at a serene little café. He felt the sudden urge to bask in some fresh air. Maybe he’d go for a casual stroll later, as it would be wasteful to stay indoors the whole day now that his mood’s been uplifted, particularly given the warm weather and generous sunshine.

He approached the door to his place and was in mid-search for his keys when the neighboring apartment’s door suddenly flew wide open, revealing a petite cycle enthusiast and her little dog, too.

“Hey, neighbor,” Pieck greeted him when they briefly crossed paths. The loveable corgi waited patiently by her side, panting. In her hands were a leash and water bottle, indicative of an impending walk. “How’s it going?”

Porco fiddled with his keys for a moment, lowering them from the lock. “Hey…” He eyed Meatball suspiciously, wondering why in the hell the furball was incapable of maintaining a similar calm and obedient disposition 24/7. “I just got back from having breakfast with my parents.”

Pieck smiled. “Awwh, that’s sweet. Sounds like quality family time,” she said. “My family rarely gets to visit me, so I’m a little jelly.”

Porco looked away, conflicted. Pieck had no idea what the convoluted details of his family problems were, so he let her believe all was fine and dandy. What’s the cliché? Ignorance is bliss.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” Porco explained. “So they sort of invited themselves over earlier this morning.”

“Surprise visits are always the best,” Pieck mused, shrugging.

 _Maybe not when you’re hungover_ , Porco thought, keeping that to himself.

“Anyway, Meatball and I were going for a walk at the park,” Pieck announced. “If you’re not busy, maybe you could join us.” She sounded so nonchalant, so freakishly relaxed. She seemed way too comfortable with his presence than Porco thought was reasonable.

But it was kind of… nice. Her friendly demeanor was a stark difference from the brusque personalities of his co-workers, the idiocy of his friends, and the stiff tension he felt from his parents. Although Porco had mixed feelings on her furry little companion, it seemed that Meatball would have no qualms if he were to join their excursion.

He briefly contemplated over whether or not he should accept, but one look at Pieck’s well-meaning smile was enough convincing. Besides, he reasoned, he intended on going for a stroll anyway, given that his headache no longer posed an immediate threat to his mental well-being.

Porco finally agreed, shoving his keys back into his pocket. “Sure.”

* * *

Meatball walked happily ahead of his master and her plus one, occasionally marking his territory on several promising sites ranging from fire hydrants to lush green bushes.

Porco cocked a brow at the way in which Meatball carried himself, curious as to how such a small creature could radiate as much confidence as the leader of a wolf pack. His short little stubs for legs trotted at an easy-going pace, and his short stub for a tail wagged back and forth in carefree motion.

Pieck appeared equally at peace, the sun casting its warm glow on her face and a gentle breeze caressing her dark locks. Porco hadn’t meant to stare for long but he found himself uncharacteristically intrigued by the duo. They seemed oddly in sync with one another.

Still, he was curious as to how it all came to be. They came to a stop at a wooden bench, and that’s when Porco sought to engage in brief conversation.

“So what sealed the deal for you?” Porco began, line of sight aimed at the pooch. When Pieck tilted her head towards him in bemusement, he expanded on his query. “You strike me as more of a cat person, is all.”

Pieck paused to pick Meatball up, sitting the small dog on her lap. “Well for starters, living in a tiny apartment all by yourself can get pretty lonely,” she replied. “There’s no one to greet you in the morning. No one waiting for you to come home.”

Porco lowkey felt like he was being called out. Living solo could be nice and all, and he definitely valued his autonomy. But maybe it _would_ be nice to know that someone had missed you while you were gone. For now, however, he was neutral on the subject.

“My family lives way outta town,” Pieck continued, “and they were the ones who suggested I look into a furry friend to keep me company. So I caved in and decided to visit an animal shelter.” She softly scratched behind Meatball’s ears, her musings wandering into nostalgic territory. “Meatball was rescued from a puppy mill. It’s heartbreaking, really. His poor mother...”

Porco nodded in understanding. He suddenly felt bad for initially despising the pooch.

“The first time I saw his little face…” Pieck sighed, lovelorn. “I just knew it was meant to be.”

Porco found the concept hard to grasp. He was unfamiliar with the emotions Pieck was emulating now; let alone the belief in things like fate. He’d always accepted that everything happened according to chance and sheer coincidence. Bad things, good things. There was no rhyme or reason to anything at all.

He opted against sharing that with her. “He’s lucky to have you,” was all his brooding would permit.

“Believe me when I say that I’m the lucky one,” Pieck chuckled, nuzzling Meatball in her arms. “What about you? You ever thought about pets?”

Porco took a moment to look back on his youth. He had a pet goldfish when he was eight. Does that count?

“Not really,” Porco admitted with a shrug. “I’m constantly in and out of my place, and dogs require a lot of attention. It wouldn’t be fair to them.”

“Cats are pretty independent,” Pieck suggested. “They’re mostly solitary creatures. The perfect pet for a true bachelor.”

“Cats are assholes,” Porco snorted, nary a hint of shame in his voice. “They always have this disdainful look on their faces, like they’re judging you.”

“Yikes,” Pieck said with a small laugh. “That’s not very nice.”

“Think about it,” Porco implored her, his expression meditative. “If we’re being honest here, no cat will ever love you the way a dog would.”

Pieck quirked a brow. “I don’t know how much weight that statement holds.”

“Don’t believe me? Look at who’s sitting on your lap.”

Pieck did as she was told, meeting Meatball’s gaze.

“He’s totally in love with you,” Porco asserted. “That devotion. That loyalty. That infatuation. You can only get that from man’s best friend.”

Pieck tapped her chin in thought, considering his impromptu rant. “You got a point there,” she relented. “But I think all pets are precious in their own way.”

“Pieck, I’m serious. You gotta admit that I’m right.”

“Right about what exactly?”

“That dogs are better than cats.”

“Oh my- You’re one of _those_ people!”

“Just admit it. You’ll feel better.”

Pieck dispelled a small laugh, shaking her head. “Such a grump,” she muttered, setting Meatball back down. “Well that’s something you and Meatball have in common then.” She rose to her feet, ready to walk back to the apartment complex.

“What? That we’re both reasonable?” Porco asked, sarcastic. He followed her lead, strolling alongside his petite neighbor whilst still waiting on an answer.

“Aside from being adorable,” Pieck began, shooting him a coy grin, “you’re both insufferable cat-haters.”

Porco froze in his tracks, feverish crimson burning his entire face. He was pretty sure he heard that right. Except he hadn’t been referred to as adorable since he was like ten.

Fuck, he felt awkward- awkward but flattered? In a way?

“We should head this way,” Pieck suggested, bringing Porco out of his flustered reverie. “It’s the scenic route.”

Porco wondered what exactly the scenic route consisted of. Lush green foliage? A semi-decent view of the city? Would it at least present the opportunity to walk by a hotdog stand?

Although he wasn’t a fan of surprises, he figured he could use this as a means of familiarizing himself with the neighborhood- as well as distract himself from thoughts of Pieck’s previous remark.

Porco finally nodded in agreement, falling in step with Pieck, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Lead the way.” And he followed her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up if you love pokkopikku! (insert kissy-face emoji here)


	7. Driving Miss Pieck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this chapter in a coffee shop wooooo !  
> idk, i'm like ten times more productive when i write in coffee shops.

_"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!"_

_Sons of the Desert, 1933_

* * *

 

As soon as Porco made it back to his place following an exhausting morning shift at work, he headed straight into the kitchen and began making himself a sandwich.

After scanning through the contents of the fridge, he settled on a basic ham and cheese combination, slapping a few slices of both on open faced wheat bread. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took a hearty bite into the newly crafted sandwich, munching away in satisfaction. He paused to take his jacket off, leaving him in a plain shirt and utility pants, which of course had been dirtied from the usual workday grime.

Just as he was about to slam the sandwich into his mouth again, there was a knock on his door, a simple pounding of three strikes. Initially, it struck him as odd, as it was rare he ever had visitors. _Unless_ it was his parents, stopping by on yet another unannounced visit.

Porco wiped the crumbs off the side of his jaw and ambled over to the door, peering into the peephole before committing himself to answering the series of knocks. On the other side was his neighbor, Pieck, clad in her fitness attire, tapping her foot to an anxious rhythm.

Porco quirked a brow in confusion before opening the door. “Hey…” he drawled, unsure what to expect.

Pieck was quick to get right to it. “Hey, neighbor. Sorry to barge in but I’m having a bit of a problem and since you’re a mechanic and all I could really use your expertise right about now!” With her plea concluded in desperate fashion, she remembered to add, “Please!”

Great. Just when he thought work was over.

“Car trouble?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. When Pieck nodded, he followed up with, “What’s the issue?”

“Won’t start,” Pieck replied. “And I have to be at work to teach a class in like… thirty minutes.”

Quite the dilemma indeed.

Porco rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… I guess I could take a look, but from what you’re telling me, it sounds like you have a dead battery.” That was the most common culprit as to why a car wouldn’t start.

Pieck groaned at the premature diagnosis. “Ugh, I’m not super savvy when it comes to cars, but that sounds bad.”

“It’s a pretty common thing…” Porco was about to offer a detailed explanation, but opted to save her a lecture due to time constraints.

He followed her down to the underground car lot, ultimately led to her compact mini cooper. He instructed her to hop in the driver’s seat and ‘give it another try’, which resulted in the flat sputtering of the engine failing to start up. When she turned the key, it would successfully crank all the way, but the engine was a definite no-go.

“Pretty sure it’s a dead battery,” Porco informed her. “But let’s just be sure. Pop the hood for me.”

Pieck complied with the request and watched as Porco quickly went to work. Sure enough, the little sucker was a deadbeat. The massive swelling of the battery was the main indicator of its demise. Luckily, further inspection revealed no signs of corrosion, the exterior’s surface clear of any leakage or gunky residue. In any event, the dastardly thing would definitely need replacement in the not too distant future, but seeing as how there was no time for such a procedure, Porco thought of a temporary fix to get her back on the road.

“You got jumper cables?” Porco asked, eyes still roaming over the car’s mechanics.

Pieck shook her head. “Negative.”

Porco looked over at his own car in the next parking spot over, remembering he’d left his jumper cables at his parent’s place a few months ago. A similar debacle had transpired with his mother’s car, and he wanted to kick himself for having forgotten to put them back in his trunk.

“Damn,” Porco muttered. “Do you think any of our neighbors would have a set?”

Pieck glanced at her watch, realizing she would was going to be late unless some sort of miracle intervened. “I could go knock on a few doors and ask,” she said with a shrug.

Porco stopped her from retreating to the elevator, figuring they’d only be wasting time. Alas, they hadn’t exhausted all of their options.

“Don’t bother,” Porco insisted, gesturing for her to stay put. “I’ll drive you to work. Just let me grab my keys.”

Pieck hesitated, not wanting to impose. “You don’t have to. I could call an uber.”

Porco frowned. “Who knows how long that’ll take,” he said, setting the hood of her mini cooper back down. “I’ll just be a sec.” He strode into the elevator after informing her he’d be right back.

When he returned shortly after, he unlocked the doors to his truck and hopped into the driver’s seat. Pieck followed suit and climbed into the passenger seat, throwing her gym bag above the center console.

“Thank you for doing this.” Pieck offered her gratitude as she buckled her seatbelt, eyes wandering to the scrumptious looking item in his hand. “Wow, you made yourself a sandwich before coming back down here? That was fast.”

Porco started the engine and began hauling away, one hand on the wheel, one hand holding up his prized homemade sandwich. “Nah,” he replied, mid-chew. “Made it earlier. Just taking it to-go.”

When they made it out to the street, Pieck began navigation to the cycle studio, directing him with a few lefts and rights here and there.

Porco was halfway through his sandwich when Pieck phoned work to assure them she was indeed showing up. Only running a tad behind schedule.

_Shit_ , Porco thought, still devouring his sammich. _I hope I don’t get pulled over for this._

Eating while driving was considered an infraction of the law, but so long as he properly concealed his consumption he’d be all right. No one sees, no one knows.

By the time they arrived at the studio, the sandwich long gone, Pieck was relieved to see she had exactly two minutes to spare. She grabbed her belongings and opened the passenger door, sights set on the studio.

“Thanks again! I owe you big time.”

Porco downplayed the gesture, moving on to the next order of business. “What time do you need to get picked up?”

“I can uber back home," Pieck replied. "Really, I don’t wanna impose.”

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” Porco huffed. “Just name the time and I’ll be here.”

Pieck tilted her head to the side in thought, slinging her gym bag over her shoulder. “Okay well probably around eight? In around three hours,” she replied, accepting his offer. “Give or take a few minutes.”

“Eight,” Porco repeated. “Got it.”

“All right. See ya!” Pieck gave him a farewell smile before turning her back and dashing toward the studio, pulling her hair back into a ponytail while in mid-jog.

Porco waited until she’d entered the building before driving away. Three hours was enough time to kick back for a bit. Maybe shower and watch something stupid on TV. It was true when he mentioned earlier that he had nothing else to do.

And that was a part of the problem. He never wanted too much free time on his hands.

He wanted distractions. The more, the better.

* * *

 

It was 8:07pm when Porco pulled up outside the cycle studio.

It was 8:11pm when Pieck walked out the studio and hopped back into the passenger seat of his truck.

“Hello again,” she chirped, setting her gym bag down at her feet. She was freshly showered and sporting a fresh change of clothes, her hair still damp at the ends. Leaning back against her seat, she withdrew a sigh of relief. “I really appreciate this. You have no idea.”

“Not a problem at all,” Porco said, scanning through the radio before driving away. For reasons unknown to him, he left it at KCMW, the station Reiner was employed with. “Ready to head home?”

Pieck gave him a nod, then paused, having hatched a sudden idea. “Actually,” she replied, tongue prodding her cheek, “if it’s not too much trouble, would it be all right if we stopped to get some food?”

Porco nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Where’d you wanna stop?”

Pieck smirked. “I’m kinda in the mood for a sandwich,” she replied, thinking back on the one Porco devoured before dropping her off. “Let’s hit up Subway.”

“Subway it is then,” Porco affirmed. “You wanna eat it there or take it to-go?”

“To-go. I don’t want to leave Meatball alone for too long. He worries about me, ya know?”

“…okay.”

They encountered a few eateries along the way, a pizza joint here, a Vietnamese restaurant there. Finally, they stumbled across a small plaza just a couple blocks away from their apartment complex and saw the bright neon sign advertising _Subway_.

When they strolled inside the joint, Pieck pulled out her wallet and then turned to address Porco. “Want anything?” she asked.

Porco shook his head, his stomach full from having devoured another handcrafted sandwich once he’d returned to his place after dropping her off at the studio. “I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Come on!” Pieck pleaded. “Let me show you my appreciation! It’s the least I could do for the ride.”

Porco declined once more. “Not necessary,” he told her.

“Fine, but I still owe you,” Pieck relented, nudging his shoulder.

She approached the beginning of the sandwich line and quickly placed her order; keeping it plain and simple- and _boring_. Six inch. Wheat bread. Turkey. Mozzarella. Toasted? No thanks. Lettuce. Tomato. Pickles. Light Mayo. Any chips or drink? Not this time. Copy of your receipt? Nah.

When the transaction was complete, Pieck returned to where Porco had temporarily stationed himself, a smile playing on her lips.

“Let’s head out.”

Back in the truck, Porco was about to tell her something when the radio interrupted his thoughts. They sat there for a brief moment, listening in as the truck idled in its parking spot.

_“And here’s the weather report for tomorrow… take it away, Braun!”_

_“*Cough* Right, well we’re looking at clear skies all day tomorrow. Temperature in the low to mid-seventies…”_

“The hell…?” Porco mumbled incredulously. _Woah. Braun’s actually on-air. When did this happen?_

“I like this new guy,” Pieck suddenly piped up. “Bit of a nervous wreck but he’s funny.”

“You listen to KCMW?” Porco asked, turning the volume down a single notch.

Pieck nodded. “It’s the only decent station around here in my opinion,” she replied. “The music’s all right, but I mostly listen to their early morning broadcasts. New guy, Braun, is a guest speaker every now and then and he’s just such a mess but it’s awesome.”

Porco rolled his eyes. Reiner Braun was indeed a mess. Alas, he couldn’t help himself. “Oh yeah?” he inquired, his interest piqued. “What does he talk about?”

“What _doesn’t_ he talk about?” Pieck chuckled. “It ranges from awkward political rants to comedic bits that are nothing more than twenty solid minutes of pure self-deprecation. He usually discusses topics at random, like he’s winging it.” But Pieck wasn’t done yet. It was clear she could talk about this for a while. “He seems most relaxed when he brings up his friends though.”

_Oh, fuck. Here we go_ , Porco thought.

“He and his friend, Bernie, have been close since they were kids. He has another friend named Abbie who likes martial arts and donuts.” Pieck suppressed a small laugh. “I kinda wish he would’ve expanded on that. Sounds interesting.”

Porco bit his lip, shaking his head. Braun had reduced Annie Leonhart to two measly traits.

Truth was, however, that was Annie in a nutshell. Martial arts enthusiast and donut lover.

_Well at least he’s using aliases_. “Has he mentioned any other friends?” Porco asked.

“Not that I can remember. Then again, he’s only mentioned them a couple times.” Pieck raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Porco said in dismissal. _Or making sure, rather._

While backing his truck out of the parking spot, he made a mental note to tune in next time Reiner was on air.

* * *

 

Back on the road, Pieck made Porco an offer he couldn’t refuse. At least with this attempt, she wouldn’t let him.

“How about I offer you a free cycle session at the studio?” she asked, winking. “That way you can take my class! I’ll be sure to give you a good workout.”

Porco hit the brakes a little harder than he meant to at the red light, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He made an incoherent noise before managing to answer, successfully thwarting dirty thoughts. “Pieck, I really don’t mind just helping out a friend. You don’t owe me anything.”

“That’s sweet and all, but I insist,” Pieck asserted. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer this time.”

The light turned green, and that’s roughly when Porco conceded to her demands. “My work schedule’s crazy,” he said. “I might not get around to using it for a while.”

“That’s all right. As long as you use it.”

Porco felt the urge to admit his uncertainty, as well as provide the reasoning behind it. “To be completely honest, when it comes to working out, I’m more of a weight-lifting kinda guy.”

Pieck laughed at that. “There’s _plenty_ of guys that attend my class. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it!”

_Shit_. She was right. He’d certainly heard it enough from his friends and family; to ‘try new things’.

“I’ll even throw in an extra free pass to sweeten the deal,” Pieck continued. “That way you can bring a friend.”

Porco sighed. If it would get her to stop badgering him, then so be it. “Whatever makes you feel better, I suppose.”

Pieck squealed with delight, conveying an animated expression conducive to her conquest. “I have some back at my place. I’ll give ‘em to you later tonight.”  

All Porco could offer in response was a single nod, turning to look at her, but only briefly.

Warmth rose in his chest, the formerly apathetic expression on his face softening.  

_Guess that makes us even._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porco likes sammiches. I think that's pretty rad.
> 
> But Annie likes donuts, so that's even *more* rad.
> 
>  
> 
> Maybe she'll show up next chapter... *winky face*


	8. Long time, No see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> delayed update, but update nonetheless !
> 
> Read, review, enjoy!!

_“Some people can’t believe in themselves until someone else believes in them first."_

_\- Good Will Hunting, 1997_

* * *

 

Porco could still remember the day Marcel moved out.

He was all packed and ready for the dorms at Marley U, set to embark on his first year away at college. Although he wasn’t too keen on admitting it out loud, Porco dreaded Marcel’s departure. Being only a year behind him, Porco had grown used to attending the same schools for the entirety of their youth, but that all changed after Marcel had graduated. Porco enrolled in MU after his senior year without a second thought, and while there may have been better schools with far more suitable programs for his area of study, he only wanted to be closer to his brother again.

Then came the day Marcel moved into his first apartment.

After receiving his degree in communications, Marcel wasted no time commencing a job search. He was able to quickly land a position at an outreach program alongside former classmates; Bertolt Hoover being one of them. Porco helped him find a place within walking distance to his work, and although they’d discussed being roommates, Porco decided it would be in his best interest to live near campus until he’d finished his studies. Both had settled on it; that would be the plan. Days, weeks, months went by; some at a snail’s pace, while others felt completely rushed. But everything about their lives was perfectly normal, perhaps even a bit monotonous.

Until the day of the accident.

And now, Marcel’s new place of residence is _room 24_ inside an assisted living facility; The Helos Care Community.

Porco stared at the building for a few blank moments, clutching the book in his hand after coming to an abrupt stop.

How long had it been since his last visit? A few weeks maybe? What with the move and his new job, Porco had been hard pressed for time. At least, that was his excuse for now. In the past, he was pretty consistent with his visits, but lately he’d been distracting himself for reasons far beyond him. It was obvious he was avoiding _something_.

But avoiding what exactly?

Porco spurned his brooding, knowing full well he’d be standing out there all day dealing with his inner turmoil if he didn’t buck up and immediately head on inside. He entered the facility at a painstakingly slow pace, dragging himself towards the automatic doors with heavy footfalls as he grew more and more wary of his surroundings. Before he could be permitted access inside the premises, a security guard asked for his ID and for him to ‘state his business,’ to which Porco cooperated, albeit slightly perturbed.

After he and his book were cleared for entrance, Porco was given a glossy pass that read ‘visitor’ and continued on his way. A single hallway led him to the main lobby, which was also designated as a waiting area depending on the circumstances of one’s visit. The setting was quiet, lined with a neat array of chairs and an adjacent coffee table with various reading material. There were a few nurses and caregivers passing on through, some escorting patients to their respective rooms or outside for recreational activities.

Porco made a beeline for the front desk, inwardly recounting the protocol for visitors.

He cleared his throat and promptly approached the receptionist, and judging by her amicable demeanor she was more than willing to lend her assistance.

“Hello,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to visit my brother,” he replied. “He’s the resident in room 24.”

The receptionist entered the information in her computer, conducting a brief search of sorts for verification. “Last name ‘Galliard’?” she asked.

Porco nodded.

“Would you like for a staff member to sit in and supervise during your stay?”

Porco definitely preferred the alternative. “No need,” he answered, shaking his head.

The receptionist offered a polite smile. It seemed to her he knew where he was going, but the glum expression of his face indicated he was hesitant.

“All right then.” She nodded, gesturing to the corridor behind him. “Room 24 is down that hall and on your left.”

It wasn’t exactly news to Porco, but it certainly testified to how long it had been since he’d navigated the hallways of the facility. Still, his feelings remained unchanged; unsuccessful in his repression of anxiety. He’d _always_ dreaded setting foot in Marcel’s room...

He expelled a deep breath. “Thanks,” was all he said before heeding her directions, his footsteps falling to a trepid beat. It wasn’t long until he’d arrived at his destination, faced with the number _24_ etched onto metal plating. Porco had hardly any time to process what his emotional state was in that moment, as his hand was already turning the knob in earnest.

Porco felt his stomach clench, all tied up in a chaotic array of twisted knots.

He quietly closed the door behind him, careful not to make too much noise. Porco directed his gaze across the room, striding forward apprehensively.

And there he was.

Bed-ridden and behind a thin raised curtain, was Marcel. He was awake, his half-lidded eyes calmly blinking, staring at nothing in particular. The steady beat of a heart-rate monitor was the only sound penetrating what would have otherwise been a dreary silence, the steel machine stationed purposefully next to his bed. He was tucked under a single blanket, clad in standard patient linens.

Not much had changed after all. Then again, what did he expect?

Porco pulled up a chair, settling himself at Marcel’s bedside.

“Hey, bro,” he said, not expecting any response of any kind. “I know it’s been a while. Sorry I’ve been kind of an asshole.”

Marcel only continued to stare ahead, as though he wasn’t even there.

Porco fidgeted with the book in his hand, fingers tracing the edges uneasily. He’d made a habit out of bringing some sort of reading material with him on his visits so he wouldn’t have to sit there and think of what to say. Reading to Marcel, whether he was awake or not, somehow alleviated the tension, as well as his own nerves.

“I brought this today,” Porco said, lifting up a copy of _Where the Red Fern Grows_. Their father had read it to them back when they were kids, and Marcel had always been exceptionally fond of it. “I found it sitting in a pile of books mom and dad were going to donate, so I asked if I could keep it. It was one of your favorites…” He trailed off, then corrected himself. “It _is_ one of your favorites.”

No response.

In spite of the very one-sided conversation, Porco carried on, clearing his throat as he opened the book to the first page.

“Chapter one,” he read aloud, feeling more adjusted with his surroundings, “’When I left my office that beautiful spring day, I had no idea what was in store for me’...”

As he kept reading, he got to a point where his guilt subsided, like it had slowly withered away with each page turned. Amid the intermittent respite, he felt as though he and his brother were somewhere else; a place where they were young and inspired again. The beats of the heart-rate monitor eventually faded out, and his mind had seemingly reached a more peaceful setting than the facility he was sitting in now.

Reality came knocking sooner than he’d expected, however.

By the time Porco had finished the second chapter, visiting hours were over.

* * *

 

It was hard enough visiting Marcel, let alone seeing him in his vegetative state.

But having to leave him there, isolated in his quiet room with only the occasional nurse to tend to him while he had hardly the mental or physical capacity to understand what was going on was sickening. Appalling. Torturous. The final twist of the knife.

That was the worst of it all, and Porco was beyond frustrated in that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. At times as particularly difficult as this, there was really only one way to effectively blow off steam. (Within _legal_ reason, that is.)

His attempt to resolve his exasperation brought him to a local gym, ultimately face to face with a brown punching bag. Fuck. He knew it was all in his head, or maybe he was just going crazy, but each time his tapered fists shot out towards the bag his anger seemed to spiral into deeper and deeper rage. Grunting furiously with each hit, he tried to focus on his breathing- and quell any lingering thoughts of how unfair and fucked up life had turned out to be. A part of him was afraid he’d only tire himself out; expel all his energy and gain absolutely nothing in return.

That seemed to be a recurring theme as of late. One step forward… two steps back.

Drenched with sweat, Porco finally stopped when the hour was up, lowering his hands to his side in exhaustion. He unraveled the white bands around his fists to find that his knuckles were bleeding underneath.

 _Fucking perfect_.

“You seem tense.” A stranger’s voice emerged from behind, prompting him to look up. “Shit, you’re definitely gonna need to bandage those.”

Porco smirked at the petite blonde, relieved at her familiar icy gaze and stoic commentary. “Long time no see, Annie.”

“Well that’s kinda because you disappeared for a while,” Annie replied, placing a hand on her hip. “Heard you met up with Bertolt and Reiner a while back. Sounds like you three had fun catching up.”

_Ha. ‘Fun.’_

“Yeah, you really missed out.” On what exactly? Well for starters… “I got pretty fucked up.” That was basically it. “But you woulda been proud of Bertolt. While Reiner and I were downin’ shots, he stayed behind and played pool.”

“Huh, interesting. It takes a lot for you to get fucked up. You must have been throwing ‘em back like nothing.”

“I had a shit day at work, so…”

Annie quickly interjected, patting Porco on the shoulder. “Save the details. Let me bandage those up for you, then we can keep chatting.”

Porco looked down and studied his hands, still pulsating with heated rage after countless jabs and strikes. The pain hadn’t set in yet, possibly due to adrenaline or because his pain threshold was even higher than he’d expected.

“Sure,” he relented, swinging his gym bag over his shoulder.

He followed her to a nearby resting station, where she pulled out a travel-size first aid kit from her own bag. She grabbed a couple of disinfectant wipes and wiped across the bruised areas of both his hands. The sting of the alcohol subsided once she began spreading antibiotic ointment on his knuckles. She then moved on to the final part of her task, and carefully draped clean bandaging material over his hands.

“You don’t have to do this, Annie,” Porco muttered, watching as she finished wrapping his left hand and began working on the right.

“I don’t mind,” Annie replied, focused on her impromptu nursing venture. “Besides, we both know you would’ve done a half-assed job.” When she was finished, she stood back and admired her handiwork. “That about does it. You’ll still have full functionality of your hands, but try to avoid punching stuff in the meantime.”

“Only if it can be helped,” Porco huffed.

“Just stay off the bag for a while,” Annie advised, smirking at his remark. “I was gonna head over to the pullup bar. Where were you headed next?”

Porco shrugged, realizing his visit to the gym had been a rather spontaneous one, as opposed to arriving with a specific workout regimen in mind. “I think I’ll join you,” he decided. Why not?

Annie nodded, leading the way. Now they could resume their previous chit-chat. “Bert mentioned you got a new job.”

“I did,” Porco replied. “At an auto shop.”

“Mechanic, huh? It’s a good thing you didn’t mess up your hands any worse, seeing as how you’ll need them.”

They set their bags aside when they arrived at the pullup bar. Annie was the first to begin a few reps after Porco assisted with helping her reach the bar’s height.

“I also moved into a new place,” Porco told her once she’d completed ten solid reps. “The Liberio Apartments off Fritz street.”

Annie nonchalantly landed back on her feet, and allowed for Porco to have a turn with the bar. “Bert and I looked into those apartments. We considered renting there before we found a house closer to my work. It’s nothing fancy. Just a small bedroom place, but it’s in a nice neighborhood, has a decent size backyard and patio, and most importantly, it’s cat-friendly.”

 _Of course it is_. “So Bert and Snowball have been getting along well then?” When Annie shot him a look of disdain, Porco let out a bitter chuckle. “I’m surprised. Your cat’s such a dick.”

“On the contrary,” Annie retorted, “he has good judgment of character. He’s only aggressive if he senses negative energy.”

Translation: ‘ _You’re_ a dick.’

Dicks aside, Annie made it a point to resume their previous topic. “Anyway,” she began, “what made you decide to move there?”

Porco waited until his fifth rep to respond. He hung stagnantly from the bar, suddenly tensing up at her query. The reason, the main reason anyway was because: “I wanted to be closer to Marcel.”

 _That_ shut them both up.

Annie appeared as though she was on the verge of apologizing, but Porco immediately changed the subject, clearly wanting to avoid the matter entirely.

“Am I missing something? You and Bert…”

Annie got the hint, opting to replace the former subject with that of current events. “We’ve been together for two years.”

Porco’s next reply was delayed until he’d completed his twelfth rep, successfully deterring thoughts of his brother in the process. “No, I knew that. I just didn’t know you two were living together.”

“It’s still a fairly recent thing,” Annie said. “We just figured it was time.”

“Congrats.” Porco dropped down from the bar, wondering what else he’d miss during his period of dissociation. “Sounds like things are getting serious.”

A half-smile faded as quickly as it appeared on Annie’s lips. “They’re definitely going in that direction.” Porco lifted her up to the bar again, and she cranked out a few more reps before letting him in on a little secret. “Let me tell you though… living with a man has been such an eye opener.” Three more reps were out of the way when she lowered herself back down, thus expanding on her off-handed observation. “Men are such strange creatures.”

“Strange how?”

 _Is that a real question?_ Annie shook her head, and guzzled down some water amid brief contemplation. Should she go into detail? She _could_ play it safe and offer the bare minimum in her response. “Bert’s got some weird habits.” That wasn’t too much information. “Not that they’re particularly irksome or anything. Just weird, I guess.”

Porco dove right into TMI territory anyway. “Like what? Leave the toilet seat up?”

“No. Gross. I meant like… he _sleeps_ weird, for one thing.”

And just like that, Porco wanted to get the fuck out of TMI territory. “Not interested in the details of your sex life, Ann.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Annie retorted. _Bit of a white lie, but he doesn’t have to know that_. “Might I remind you, you _were_ interested at one point.”

“When have I ever been interested in the details of your sex life?!”

“Not sure if I should be offended or if you just have bad memory, but we dated for three weeks back in high school.”

Porco let out a bitter chuckle. “Two weeks, actually. And then you broke up with me because you had the hots for some guy you met at band camp.”

“Oh, someone’s still a little salty about that.”

“Hardly. That was literally ten years ago. Safe to say I’m over it.”

Annie put their snarky banter on hold, pausing to stretch while Porco finished his second set of pullups.

“Good. I’d feel bad if you’d still been crying over me after all this time.” Annie was preparing for her third set when another question arose. “Have you, by chance, met anyone to help you move on?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m seeing anyone, the answer’s no.”

 _Well shit_. “How long has it been?”

“Since what? Since my last relationship? Or since I’ve gotten laid?”

“The former. Anyone can get laid, Porco.” Annie paused before starting a new set. Inhale. Exhale. Four more reps. “It’s basically meaningless… until you meet someone worthwhile.”

Porco was surprised by the shift in Annie’s mentality. Her perspective on relationships had changed; definitely for the better. While she might always give off the impression of having a cold and aloof personality, she seemed to possess a newfound sense of sentimentality in regards to her ideals.  He wondered if Bertolt had something to do with that.

He really had been gone for a long time. It was obvious he had missed so much; Annie’s evolution (however minor it was) being one of them.

“Who knows?” Porco shrugged, inserting himself back into their wholesome little chat. “A while.”

Annie gave him a sympathetic look, simultaneously trying her best not to appear as though she was pitying his single status. She eased herself back to the ground, her third set complete. “It’ll play out one of two ways. Either you gotta put yourself out there more, or it’ll happen when you least expect it.”

Porco’s face contorted into that of regret. “The last time I put myself out there didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“That’s because you entrusted yourself to the likes of Reiner Braun. Sober or not, that’s never a good idea.”

She had a point.

“Spare me the lecture,” Porco grunted, a tad bitter. “Guess I’d prefer to let things just happen.” To a certain extent, anyway. “Seems less exhausting.”

Annie motioned for him to take his turn. “Understandable,” she concurred. “But don’t be too closed off then. You’re not exactly the approachable type.”

Porco scoffed as he conducted another series of pullups. “Takes one to know one.”

“I’m serious,” Annie said. “You come off as a grump.”

Porco exhaled deeply, lifting himself up as he kept count internally. _Six. Seven. Eight_. “I thought so too, but it didn’t seem to scare my neighbor off.”

“Neighbor?” Annie quirked a brow. “You actually talk to the other tenants?” Let alone talk to people in general.

 _Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen_. “She sort of approached me first. And we keep… bumping into each other. It’s weird. Surprised I haven’t scared her off.”

“ _She_?” Annie’s interest was fully piqued now. “Well… is she cute?”

 _Nineteen. Twenty_. “What? How is that relevant?”

“How is it _not_? We were just talking about letting things happen naturally. Maybe this neighbor-” Annie stopped to conduct a quick assessment, watching as Porco let go of the bar. “Does she have a name?”

Porco heeded the call to hydrate himself before responding. “Pieck.”

“Pieck. That’s… odd. I can’t fathom any sort of visual. You gotta give me more to work with here. Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short?”

Porco refused to play along, cutting right to the chase. “Yes, Annie. She’s cute.”

It was the first time he admitted that out loud- and the heart palpitations that followed suit made him want to strangle himself.

Annie also got right to the point, figuring she’d heard enough to procure a viable recommendation. “Fuck it. Ask her out.”

Porco nearly choked upon hearing that. “I’ve known her for _one_ month.”

“Is that moving too fast for you?”

Fair question. After all, Porco had already visited Pieck’s place, met her boisterous pup, and even had dinner with her. They’d gone for a couple walks together (albeit unplanned walks), he’d helped out with her car trouble, had driven her to work and then back home again- _Wait_.

No. He wasn’t going to ask her out. Wasn’t even going to consider it an option. It was still way too early to tell how she was felt about him- or how _he_ felt, for that matter. By all accounts Pieck seemed comfortable around him, but maybe she was like that with everybody.

Maybe Annie could help him figure that out…

Porco theorized a few plausible ideas before returning his gaze to the petite blonde, who was currently waiting on some feedback. “Are you free this Saturday? Saturday evening to be exact?”

Annie tilted her head, wondering what Porco had on his mind. “I am,” she drawled, quizzical. “Why?”

 _Long story short…_ “Pieck is an instructor at some cycling studio. She gave me a couple free passes after I gave her a ride to work.” Porco hoped Annie was following. “Think you’d be interested in joining me?”

Annie rubbed her chin, pondering the suggestion. “Let me be sure I have this right,” she finally said. “You want me to go with you… as some sort of wingman?” Wingman… wingwoman?

Porco grimaced. “Not exactly…” That might not have been how he wanted her to interpret it, but her presumption wasn’t all that far off either. “I just want an outside perspective.”

Annie held up her hand dismissively, completely understanding. “Say no more. I can feel her out for you.” With a shrug she added, “I’ve always wanted to try a cycling class anyway.”

“Cool.” Porco nodded, inexplicably relieved. “Gotta give you a heads up though.”

“What? What’s wrong with her?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. The fuck, Ann? Anyway, she’s a little weird. Quirky kind of weird.”

 _Aren’t we all?_ “So? Who cares? As long as she’s not like secretly a serial killer…”

“Fuck, I sure hope not.”

Annie rolled her eyes and nudged his arm. “That was a little thing we sarcastic assholes call a ‘joke.’ Chill out.”

Porco shot her a wry grin. “Thanks for the pep-talk.”

He wouldn’t want anyone else to be his wingman.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snk 105 brought out the crazy in half the fandom so idk I'm a bit turned off by what I've been seeing on my tumblr/dash lately...  
> I promise to still work on this fic tho! I just need a break from snk and in the meantime I'll probably be focused on writing for other fandoms or exploring other avenues that i've been wanting to for a while.  
> Just wanna say thanks to everyone who's supported me and offered feedback on my writing! It's seriously the only reason why i bother anymore lol


	9. Just Keep Spinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This is a part of my fic updating spree so if you read my other ongoing fics you're in for a treat :D  
> Anyway!!! I also wanted to explain why I was a bit on edge last chapter. I was just sick and tired of seeing people post hate about Gabi on tumblr and idk it made me sick. I'll probably delete this author's note later lol but that's why I had to take a mini break from SnK to those who were wondering! I'm a Gabi stan and seeing all the negativity from chapter 106 pretty much had me at my limit. (Blocking and filtering can only do so much lmao)  
> Thank you all for being supportive and understanding tho!!  
> Got more coming your way so stay tuned!

_"Why don't you come up sometime and see me?"_

_She Done Him Wrong, 1933_

* * *

Porco had a couple hours to kill before Pieck’s cycle class the following Saturday night.

As per usual, work had been rather unforgiving, the conditions as loud and horrendous as ever. The weekends were always a mess, but thankfully the auto shop closed early on Sundays, offering its overworked employees reprieve from the never-ending line-up of vehicles.

Given the small allotment of free time, Porco decided to tidy up his place by way of rearranging a few things and giving the hardwood floors a quick sweep. After the menial tasks had been completed, he directed his attention to the small box his mother had left him during her impromptu visit with his father. ‘ _Just a few things to help spruce the place up a bit_ ,’ she had told him. ‘ _Give it some character_!’

Porco shook his head to rid the thought entirely, opting to prepare his gym bag and get dressed before so much as taking a peek inside the box. When he walked into his bedroom, his gaze absentmindedly darted to his phone, set face down on his bed. To ensure the plan was still a go for the evening, he figured he ought to text Annie prior to committing himself with a change of clothes. He picked up his phone and composed a simple message.

 **5:52pm – Porco:** Need a ride tonight?

Wingman (wingwoman?) Annie Leonhart made it clear she was a self-sufficient individual.

 **5:52pm – Annie:** No thanks. I’ll just meet you there. Whats the name of the place so I can google it

Porco forgot that himself. Oops. He peered over at the guest passes on top of the dresser and briefly scanned them for the name of the studio. The search didn’t take long at all.

 **5:53pm – Porco:** Marley Cycle

That should be easy to remember, given its location and all.

Annie’s next message offered some interesting tidbits of information.

 **5:57pm – Annie:** So I just googled the place and its gotten some pretty good reviews. Cool.

But she didn’t stop there.

 **5:57pm – Annie:** The reviews are quite the entertaining read actually. Pretty damn funny stuff. Half of them are just people fangirling over Pieck and how shes their favorite instructor. You gotta look this up for yourself

Against his better judgment, Porco caved into his brewing curiosity.

Turns out, she was not exaggerating in the slightest.

One particularly charmed review read: _‘The studio is clean and the staff is friendly. Pieck is by far the best instructor and she’s always so helpful. Her smile makes my day.’_

 _Okay then,_ Porco thought, scratching his head _. Doesn’t seem too overboard._

Another read: _‘I’ve been going to this place consistently for the past few weeks and have lost ten pounds. Pieck knows how to really kick my ass. I think I’m in love.’_

 _What the fuck_. Still, could be worse.

Porco read on and on, landing on a semi-normal review: _‘Pieck is the best! Seriously, go to one of her classes and you’ll be instantly hooked! She’s an actual angel!’_

But they only started getting weirder from there on out.

_‘Pieck is always exactly right!’_

_‘I only go for Pieck’s classes tbh.’_

_‘Pieck is love. Pieck is life. 10/10 will come back!’_

One anonymous reviewer felt the need to make a confession, spilling their guts in the name of love.

_‘The studio is great and all, but I really just wanna marry Pieck.’_

After a few minutes of scrolling, Porco figured that was enough reading for the day. Or ever.

 **6:01pm – Porco:** Thanks Annie. Those reviews gave me cancer.

Still recovering from what he’d just been exposed to, Porco quickly threw off his shirt and changed out of his clothes, sporting new workout attire after reemerging into his bedroom. Just as he had finished his wardrobe alteration, his phone buzzed again.

 **6:02pm – Annie:** So what? You have some competition. Nothing you cant handle, im sure.

 **6:02pm – Annie:** What time is the class anyway?

Porco took a moment to verify which class he’d signed them both up for, switching tabs on his phone to visit the studio’s website. Bikes #19 and #20 had been reserved for him and Annie respectively. Instructor: Pieck. Time: 7:00pm.

 **6:03pm – Porco** : 7. So im gonna leave in about half an hour.

Annie concurred with one final message.

 **6:03pm – Annie:** Alright. Same. See you then

Porco tucked his phone in his gym bag and headed into the living room, tossing the bag on the couch. His best efforts to ignore the box his mother had left for him were futile, as he had already caught a furtive glance of the mute object through his peripherals. Realizing he’d avoided it long enough, he approached the counter at a reluctant pace, dragging his feet with each step, and reached for the flimsy flaps atop the box. Thirty minutes offered plenty of time to sift through its content; pick and choose which items could be used to lighten up the dull interior and which ones he’d leave inside the box and stuff away in his closet. He knew his mother would scold him for leaving it there to sit around and collect dust. The mere thought was enough convincing alone.

When he tore the flaps of the box open the first thing he saw was a framed picture.

The image captured him and Marcel at his high school graduation, his brother smiling as wide as ever.

Porco froze; unsure how to feel, unsure what to do next. It was for this exact reason he didn’t want pictures hanging on the walls of his apartment. Most people might have attributed the absence of such keepsakes to Porco’s minimalist mindset in regards to interior design- and he didn’t mind if that was the conclusion they’d drawn.

In actuality, he avoided the distribution of seemingly harmless mementos as yet another means of avoiding the real issue at large; sweeping it all under the rug, so to speak. Ignoring his troubles probably wasn’t the healthiest approach to dealing with all that was going on, but Porco came to accept that he’d rather put it off as long as he could as opposed to dwelling on the matter every waking moment.

The latter would only drive him insane.

Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to place the photo back inside and shove the box away- not when his thoughts carried him back a few days before, when he’d gone to visit his brother for the first time in a while. It just didn’t seem right to push him away, _again_ , after he’d done so for the past couple years.

Porco muttered an expletive, internally shaming himself for what he deemed to be no more than selfish motives. He was still getting used to the whole concept of ‘moving on,’ and he prided himself in being patient.

So he placed the photo aside, face up, next to the box, leaving it on the counter in full view. He could be content with that for now.

Progress not perfection.

* * *

 

The seven o’clock class was full.

Of course it was. After all, if the reviews from online indicated anything other than the fact that Pieck was fawned over like a puppy, it was that the cycle studio was a hot spot for the local health nuts.

Annie seemed to take notice as well, weaving through the horde of cycle enthusiasts alongside her plus one. “This place is a little crowded. Good thing classes are by reservation only. First come first serve would’ve been a madhouse.”

The room encompassed a total of thirty bikes, divided into three groups of ten with the instructor’s bike hoisted on a higher platform in front. Mirrors surrounded them on either wall, and there were two speakers elevated near the ceiling, one for music and the other connected to the instructor’s mic.

Porco led Annie to their bikes, situated in the back row of the second section, and kept an eye out for his neighbor.

“Why’d you choose these bikes?” Annie asked. “We’re in the back row. I don’t wanna be staring at someone’s ass the whole time.”

“And if it’s a really nice ass?” Porco deadpanned, not really paying much attention.

Annie raised a brow. “That’s something Reiner would say,” she huffed. “Funny. Didn’t take you for an ass man.”

Porco grunted indignantly. “Don’t _ever_ compare me to that imbecile,” he muttered, waving her off with casual reasoning. “Look, I tried to get better seats but this was all they had left. The class was filling up fast. And besides…” He paused, adjusting the seat on her bike to prove a point. “There. Now you’ll be able to see the front just fine.”

“Ohhh kay then,” Annie said, hopping on her bike to test the adjustment. “This should be totally fine.”

Porco began tuning the settings for his own bike when Annie unexpectedly hurled a blunt question his way.

“So when’s this Pieck gonna show up?” she asked. “Gotta see what all the hype is about.”

“Hype?” Porco questioned, not particularly fond of the word.

Before he could procure a rebuttal, the door swung open to reveal the petite instructor for the evening’s class.

Pieck’s sudden emergence had turned every head her way, watching as she strolled on inside the room. She was clad in a fluorescent tank top and skin tight lycra leggings, and her lengthy tresses had been secured into a high ponytail.

Porco’s ears grew hot and his heart rate spiked in rapid succession. He felt uneasy, perturbed by the arousal of such inexplicable feelings; like that of an automated reflex.

Annie on the other hand expressed her astonishment no holds barred, snapping him out of his trance. “Wow,” she said, voice staggered. “She’s a rather gorgeous specimen.” She paused, turning to nudge Porco’s shoulder. “ _That’s_ your neighbor?”

Porco nodded, falling short of any words. He gave a cursory glance at his watch, noting they still had five minutes until class.

“Why are you so intimidated?” Annie accused. “You should go talk to her.”

Porco rolled his eyes. “I’m _not_ intimidated,” he refuted. “Class is about to start. I probably shouldn’t bother her.” _I’m sure that happens a lot anyway._

Annie seemed to fall for the bluff, sighing. “Okay, but don’t get butt-hurt if one of her fanboys beats you to the punch.”

Relief came over Porco, thankful that Annie wasn’t giving him as hard a time as usual.

The brief respite however came to an end when Pieck looked up from her bike on the platform and scanned the entire room. When her sights brought her to the back row of the second section, her entire demeanor immediately perked up, eyes bright with intrigue.

It was too late. She had already spotted him.

 _Fuck_ … Porco thought, tensing up.

“Aha,” Annie apprised. “She’s coming this way. Play it cool.”

Porco had literally five seconds (if that) to prepare himself before Pieck had made her way over to him, planting her small stature directly in front of his bike.

“Hey neighbor,” she greeted. “You came through tonight!” She turned to acknowledge his plus one, offering the petite blonde an equally amiable grin. “And you brought a friend.”

Seeing as how his hand had been forced, Porco proceeded to introduce the two, ignoring the suggestive glances from Annie as best he could.

He nodded in affirmation. “Pieck, this is Annie.”

Pieck’s smile grew wider. “Nice to meet you, Annie.”  

“Likewise,” Annie said in return, reciprocating the polite gesture. “You and Porco are neighbors?” she asked, hoping to break the ice while simultaneously pretending she didn’t already learn that from the tentative gent next to her.

“That’s right. We’re both on the fifth floor,” Pieck said, assuming a saintly look. “I take it you’re his girlfriend? How long have you two been together?”

Porco grimaced. Annie nearly choked. (In disgust? Disdain? Disbelief? All of the above?!) Though to be fair, most people assumed they were dating whenever they’d ventured out and about. This, unfortunately, was one of the very few times it was actually awkward. Almost as awkward as the time they went to see a basketball game together and were featured on the kiss-cam.

Almost.

“Oh, god, no. We’re not together,” Annie corrected.

“We’ve been friends since high school,” Porco explained, only slightly offended by Annie’s repulsed look.

“Right, and I’m already spoken for,” Annie quickly added. “But Porco is _single_.”

Very single. Pathetically single. As in _I haven’t gotten laid in forever but I pretend to not give a fuck even though it’s really starting to bother me_ single.

Pieck blinked a couple times in acquiescence. The expression on her face seemed to a convey a quiet _‘I made this weird, didn’t I?’_ but nevertheless, she rolled with it.

“Good to know… I guess,” she chuckled, lips twitching from suppressing more laughter. “Well, I gotta get class started here in a sec, but I wanted to stop by and say thanks again, Porco. For last week, that is.”

“No problem,” Porco assured her, totally and definitely not dying of embarrassment on the inside.

Pieck smiled and was about to casually saunter away to her position as instructor but stopped to add one last thing. “Stay after class for a bit,” she implored, looking back and forth between him and Annie. “I’ll wanna know what your thoughts are.”

Porco wordlessly agreed. Annie concurred with, “Sure thing.”

With that, Pieck turned on her heel and headed for the small platform, noting time was up.

Porco watched as she hopped on her bike and adjusted her microphone, worn as a wireless headset.

“Testing, testing,” Pieck checked into the mic. When a few members of the class gave her the thumbs up, she commenced training, turning the music on with the single press of a button. “Okay then, everyone. Let’s get started with some warmups!”

* * *

 

Class was only fifty minutes long, but the final sequence had everyone sweating as though they’d spent hours in a sauna.

Porco reached for the small towel draped over his handlebars, hurriedly wiping his forehead.

Annie had guzzled down an entire bottle of water, and was already reaching for her second.

The reviews online failed to mention one thing, blinded by their obsession with Pieck’s admirable charm and overall friendly personality.

She was a bit of a hardass.

“One more set, guys! Keep going!” Pieck enthused into the mic, lifting herself from the seat. “Buns up! Turn the knob to the highest resistance setting!”

Porco lifted himself up as directed, pedaling harder to keep up with the heavy resistance. He peered over to see how Annie was faring, impressed by her foolhardy endurance.

“This is it! We’re almost there!” Pieck announced, initiating a countdown. “Ten… nine… eight…”

The entire class counted down with her, reaching a climax with the upbeat music and rush of adrenaline.

“Five… four… three…”

Annie cursed to herself, and Porco couldn’t help but smirk when he caught of glimpse of her fatigued exertion, pedaling with rage.

“Two… one… and that’s it!” Pieck slowed her pace down, pedaling at an easy resistance level with her rear setting back on the seat of the bike. “Let’s take a moment to cool down.”

Annie and Porco collapsed back into their seats, both reaching for their towels.

“This is a great way to assess your stamina,” Annie managed through a flimsy exhale, marveling at how much she’d sweat. “Fuck, I gotta stay hydrated.”

“Definitely wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be,” Porco admitted, patting his face dry. “Pieck didn’t show us newcomers any mercy.”

After class had ended, Pieck thanked everyone for attending and encouraged newcomers to sign up for a membership, offering a brief pitch that seemed to work on a couple eager participants who practically bolted for the front desk.

Several people still lingered about the room, chatting with one another amid an afterglow of endorphins. Others filed out the room one by one, some heading for the showers, others heading home. By the time Porco and Annie finished gathering their belongings, Pieck and her glistening self had returned, approaching the duo with optimism seared on her face.

“So,” she began, folding her arms across her chest, “What did you think?”

“It was… different,” Porco replied.

“I thought it was great,” Annie commended, her breathing still somewhat hitched. “I’d never taken a cycle class before so I was skeptical when Porco asked me to tag along, but I’m glad I did. I’ll definitely be back.”

“You should sign up for a membership,” Pieck coaxed. “That way you can attend unlimited classes and receive other perks the studio has to offer. Like nutritional services and personal training, to name a few.”

“I think I will, actually,” Annie affirmed, much to Porco’s surprise.

“Looks like I still gotta work on recruiting you though,” Pieck quipped, nudging Porco’s arm. “Hope you at least had fun.”

“I did,” Porco assured her. “I can see why your classes get so full. You’re one hell of an instructor.”

“Why thank you,” Pieck chirped. “You’re always welcome to come again.”

Porco gave a barely-there half-smile, extending his gratitude before announcing his departure. “Well thanks for the guest passes, Pieck,” he said. “Gonna go hit the showers.”

Annie was on the verge of announcing the same when she suddenly hatched an idea. She grabbed Porco by the wrist to stop him from leaving, forcing him to turn back. Clearing her throat, the scheming blonde quickly addressed Pieck in earnest.

“I hope I’m not overstepping a boundary or anything here,” Annie began, oblivious to the look of confusion etched on Porco’s face, “but if you’re free next weekend, you should come to my housewarming party.”

Pieck tilted her head in question. “Really?” she asked, “That’s awfully nice of you.”

Annie nodded. “Of course. Any friend of Porco is a friend of mine.”

Porco’s eyes widened in shock, staring at Annie incredulously. Holy shit, that offhanded gesture was so unlike her; almost as though forcing herself to follow through with the impromptu invitation was as repugnant as pulling teeth.

Clearly, she was not cut out for this wingman (wingwoman??) kind of stuff.

But she was trying…

“You’ll be there, too, right, Porco?” Annie reiterated, eyes glaring into his goddamn soul. Ugh. Painful.

“Yeah, I guess,” was all he could come up with.

“Great,” Annie said. “I’ll text you the details later and then you can pass them along to Pieck. Sound good?”

Porco blinked a few times before letting out a passive, “Sure.”

_That was real smooth, Ann._

“Good,” Annie said, then she leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” She turned back to Pieck, offering another proposition of sorts. “I’ll sign up after I shower. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

“Okay,” Pieck agreed, watching as Annie strode off into the women’s locker room.

Her retreat was another calculated move to get Porco alone with Pieck, devoid of any third-wheel distractions.

But Porco kept it brief, succumbing to the pressure.

“I’m gonna head out,” he informed her, nodding towards the men’s locker room. “Thanks, again, Pieck.”

Pieck hummed cheerfully in response. “Guess I’ll see you later,” she said. “At the housewarming party thing.”

Porco paused, rubbing the back of his neck after taking hold of his gym bag. “I’m sure I’ll see you before then.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. We’re neighbors,” Pieck chuckled. “Either way. See ya!”

She gave him a single wave before leaving the room, intent on performing a few menial duties at the front desk before veering off into facilities reserved for ‘staff members only.’

Porco didn’t turn and leave until after she’d gone, running his hand through his hair in thought.

_See ya._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a slow burn. just a heads up.
> 
> bear with me!!! :/


	10. A Creek Runs Through It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter is filler...  
> Short chapter is short...  
> buuuuuut good news is the next chapter is almost done being cleaned up and edited!!! So you won't have to wait long for that one. 
> 
> This chapter has a flashback and is 100% Porco's POV and is angsty AF and deals with some mature subject matter. (Alcohol/tobacco abuse) It's nothing too dramatic, just wanted to give y'all a heads up in case you were sensitive to that sort of thing.
> 
> (Also see tag: Angst with a happy ending :) ) !!!

_"Nobody's perfect."_

_Some Like It Hot, 1959_

* * *

Porco hefted the stone in his hand, feeling the weight for a moment as he contemplated the still surface of the water. There was something comforting in these kind of pastimes. Most kids his age preferred kicking a ball around or racing one another along the lengths an open field- but his consolations were quieter, more meditative.

He had come to this quaint little pond after school to mull over several things, all the while searching the muddied earth beneath his boots for prospective skipping rocks. He found one with a particularly flat and smooth shape, its size a bit larger than he’d normally select.

Porco turned the stone in his hand and let it go, watching it skip once, twice, and sink. A poor throw. A second soon followed, worse than the first, sinking on the first try. He grunted in exasperation, picked up another, and, taking a few steps back, threw it as hard as he could.

Five perfect skips, the rock skimming the water with a little indignation of its own.

“Knew you’d be out here.”

Porco turned toward the voice, watching as his brother made his way out from behind the bushes and thick foliage.

Marcel began rolling up his sleeves, readying himself to join in on the throwing exercise.

“You’re getting better at this,” he said, picking up a rock of his own. “What’s your personal best? Five? Six?”

“Five,” Porco replied. “My goal is to get as many skips as you.”

“You will,” Marcel assured him. “With practice.” He raised his arm up and aimed his rock toward the pond’s calm waters, sending it two-three-four across the surface with ease. “I haven’t been able to hit seven since dad took us to the lake last summer.”

The trip was something to look forward to every summer- except in that moment, Porco was too distracted to look back on fond memories. His thoughts were completely consumed by a frivolous discussion amongst his peers at school earlier that day.

“Marcel?” he asked, veering the subject off with a hesitant tone. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”

Marcel fiddled with the rock in his hand before responding, averting his gaze from the water to face his brother. “Someone who helps people,” he replied. “Like mom and dad.” He paused to give his new rock a hefty toss before asking, “Why?”

Porco waited until the rock had completed five skips across the pond to answer, feeling a tad envious. “The other kids were talking about it at school.”

“Well… what about you? Do you know?”

Porco’s silence said enough.  

His classmates seemed so sure of themselves. Doctors. Firefighters. Astronauts. Some wanted to follow in the footsteps of their parents, but Porco wasn’t too keen on that idea. A lawyer like his father, or a real estate agent like his mother? At this age, his knowledge on either profession was extremely limited to ‘ _someone who argues with other people in court_ ’ and ‘ _someone who sells houses_ ’. Neither of which had interested him in the slightest.

But it was Marcel who offered some helpful advice; a silver lining among clouded thoughts of fear and uncertainty.

“That’s okay,” the brunet chuckled lightly, walking over to close the distance between them. “You don’t have to decide now. You’ll have plenty of time to think about it.”

Typical Marcel. Always looking on the bright side.

“I think you should find out what things you like and what things you’re good at,” Marcel continued, handing over a flat rock, its thin shape parallel to the ground. “And don’t be afraid to try something new.”

Porco accepted the rock and leveled his arm with the water, eyeing it studiously. He swung his arm back and quickly thrusted it forward again, releasing the rock ahead to skid over the surface of the pond.

The duo stood back and counted silently to themselves.

_One-two-three-four-five-six…_

“Hey! You hit six!” Marcel drew him in for a celebratory high five. “That was amazing!”

Porco half-smiled. So long as his brother was by his side, all would be fine.

* * *

 

The memory was fleeting, fading as quickly and mysteriously as it had appeared.

The body of water situated before him now was different; not quite the pond he and Marcel would visit and skip rocks together. Rushing past him was a creek, its current flowing fiercely on its course through the local park.

Murmuring waters had seemingly spawned his aimless musing, his thoughts drifting away with the stream. Various stones lay scattered near his feet, and thick shrubbery shielded his contemplative position from the public eye, virtually the only place off-trail that offered privacy. The ambiance stirred feelings of nostalgia, unceremoniously leading him to his brother.

Porco shook his head. He’d gone on this walk to clear his mind, yet his own pensive distractions had hindered that objective.

So much for a little reprieve.

He glanced down at his watch. He was on-call for work and was bound to hear from his boss within the next half hour or so, bearing the news of whether or not he would need to show up.

Porco figured he ought to head back to his place in case he was called in. With a look of embitterment, he peered over at the creek one last time, frowning after finally urging himself away.

He followed the trail out of the park and back to the bustling streets of the Liberio neighborhood, shoving his hands in his jacket. Along the way, he passed a Qwikmart at a gas station, to which he slowed his pace down in recollection. He’d been meaning to pick up a few things he’d missed on his last grocery run. He checked his pockets to ensure he’d brought his wallet with him, and when his fingers brushed over the familiar feeling of faux leather binding he carried on with his original plan and ventured inside the shop.

It was the same as every other gas station; a quick stop for travelers and locals alike. There were shelves aligned with chips and candy, as well as toiletries and cheap electronic accessories. The selection was of dual purpose; offering basic items for cheap roadtrip snacking material and/or last minute pantry essentials. Towards the back were the alcoholic beverages- which was exactly where Porco initially aimed to avoid.

His intentions were innocent enough at first; pick-up some more cereal, maybe orange juice since he was almost out, and a cheap cell phone charger to fill-in as a substitute device until the one he had ordered from his carrier arrived.

But as soon as Porco wandered into the beverage section for orange juice, he found himself facing a taunting prospect. Adjacent to the sodas and energy drinks was the section reserved for beer, liquor, and cheap wine. In the blink of an eye, he gave in and rummaged through the assortment, eventually settling on a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Porco ignored his impulse control and trudged through the aisle for the checkout stand at front, committing himself to make the purchase before he could change his mind. As the clerk began scanning the items, Porco caught a glimpse of the shop’s selection of tobacco products behind the counter.

Against his better judgment, he asked the clerk to add a pack of Marlboros to his purchase.

 _Might as well_ , he thought. It wasn’t that he had abandoned his willpower, it was more like he ran out of fucks to give.

He reasoned that he hadn’t officially quit smoking anyway, he’d merely gone on a smoking hiatus, cutting back so his mother would stop berating him for his unhealthy lifestyle choice.

But now that he lived on his own, he was eager to start up again and feel the familiar weight of the flame perched on his lips, the cigarette pinched between the folds of his mouth. And the scent, the scent that most people seemed to loathe, offered comfort. It was an act that calmed his nerves, and all he’d have to do was breathe in, breathe out.

The urgency to rip into the pack and smoke the shit out of the entire thing was far too strong to quell.

As he left the shop and continued his way back to his place, he decided that once he’d finally set foot through the door and kicked off his shoes, that would be the first thing he’d do.

* * *

He couldn’t find his lighter.

All the hype for a nicotine high dissolved when his search turned up nothing.

Porco ravaged drawer after drawer, through the couple unopened boxes left over from the move, and finally in the worn out pockets of several jackets in his closet.

Nothing.

Although the mere suggestion seemed exhausting, he contemplated heading back to the Qwikmart; a length he was willing to go to as a last resort for the sake of lighting up. The clock was ticking. He’d have to hurry before-

His phone. His phone rang.

Work.

 _Fuck_ , Porco thought, silently praying to any higher power who would listen that he wouldn’t have to go in to the shop.

“Yeah?” Porco answered once he’d brought the phone to his ear, his gaze never leaving the unopened pack of cigarettes on the counter.

 _Of course_ they needed him to come in and lend a hand. They’d been short staffed for the past few weeks. The news should not have been all that shocking.

“All right. I’ll be there,” Porco informed his boss, not at all mindful of the apathy in his tone.

When he hung up, he rolled his shoulders and let out a sharp sigh. It didn’t take long for him to get dressed and gather what few belongings were necessary; car keys, ID, a jacket for the cool evening air- _and_ his smokes.

No doubt someone at work would have a lighter. Might as well buy a new one on his way home, too.

Porco gave his apartment a brief once over while heading for the door- until he suddenly came to a halt.

The picture of Marcel was still face-up on the counter; just as he left it the day prior.

_You should probably get a move on, Galliard…_

Work was expecting him, but the photograph was holding him back and he was fed up with ignoring it. He could leave it as is, or he could- no, he _should_ \- hang it up, somewhere. Anywhere.

Porco cursed at his own reluctance, opting to disregard it in place of honoring the memory of his brother; when things were… better. When his life wasn’t complete shit. When the Galliard family had at least _one_ son to be proud of…

Porco chose the first vacant space that caught his eye and carefully hung the photograph on the wall near the entryway. His pandering only lasted but a few seconds before he turned for the door again, giving his brother a single nod as if to apologize for his hesitation.

He fell short of any words, failing to come up with any attempt at consolation.

Then again, it was highly unlikely that a few meaningless words strung together would magically change the outcome, anyway. Shit, wasn’t he supposed to feel better about this?

In an effort to distract himself, he fiddled around with the pack of cigarettes in his jacket as he waited for the elevator.

They weren’t going to last the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow burn is slow...
> 
> Pieck will return next chapter. Aaaaaand it will definitely be more, ya know, light-hearted :D


	11. The Shallow End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexual tension ~~~~
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies, fam. I had to re-write the second half of this chapter *three* times. THREE timES!!!  
> just wanna say thanks to those who have offered kudos/nice comments :)
> 
> I'm about to take on a full-time position at an elementary school so I'm gonna be a busy bee when autumn rolls around :/ Still, I'm grateful to advance my career and become a responsible adult with a decent paying job lol The only thing is that I won't have a whole lotta time to write- BUT I'll make the effort!!!  
> In the meantime, wish me luck and enjoy this next chapter :D

_"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"_

_The Graduate, 1967_

* * *

 

Porco leaned against the railing of his balcony, turning his back to the city skyline and busied streets below.

He’d just finished off his first cigarette for the night after a particularly hectic day at work, and figured he owed it to himself to satisfy his nicotine craving. He shook another cigarette loose from a half empty pack and quickly settled it between his lips, fishing for the lighter in his pocket. As luck would have it, the damn thing had been left in his locker at the auto shop, sparing him from having to buy a new one altogether.

 _Thank fuck_. Must have absentmindedly tucked it away after a short smoke break.

With one hand, Porco clicked his lighter impatiently. He curled his other hand to shield it from the slight breeze that had kicked in. The lighter zinged a few times fruitlessly, but he kept his hands steady. Insistent. After a few tries, the fire eventually caught and he sucked in a deep greedy inhale, his cheeks hollowing to create suction. Light airy puffs of smoke surrounded him as he proceeded to exhale, like that of a withered cloud. The glowing tips of the cigarette advanced rapidly, leaving no more than tiny burnt cinders in its wake.

Another shuddering exhale left Porco’s lungs, and he tilted his head back, drawing in the euphoric feeling of gratification.  

Everything seemed to blur; dark and hazy like his thoughts. It was an effort to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds, overwhelmed by the exhaustion that had come to seek recompense after the gruesome day at work.

His eyes suddenly burst open. When he turned back to look out towards the broad and breathtaking lights of the city, he realized something peculiar.

There was a reason he found this comforting; a reason far more complex than the mere fulfillment of his nicotine fixation or relishing in the cool night air and impeccable view of the city.

Moments like this felt unaffected by time.

For a short while, he could stay out here and pretend all was well. No bull shit from work. No lectures from his parents. No sentiments of how truly lonely he felt at times. Nor did he have to face the reality of his brother’s current state.

Porco was fine with playing pretend; fleeting as his escape was.

He took another long drag from his cigarette and was just about to head back inside for that damned bottle of Jack Daniels when a voice unexpectedly intruded his inward contemplation.

Fancy that. He wasn’t entirely alone.

“Hey neighbor,” came Pieck’s all-too familiar greeting, her half-smile dissolving into a disapproving smirk. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

Porco met her gaze, wondering how long she’d been out on her own respective patio for. Had she been watching him this whole time? Creepy little psycho. That wasn’t even the worst part when he took a moment to mull it over. He could care less about her spying on him, so long as she wouldn’t lecture him for his smoky habit. But fuck, the inflection in her voice when she said ‘ _smoked’_ made it seem as though things were about to go in that direction…

“I took it up recently for my health,” Porco deadpanned, unable to come up with any other diverting response.

Pieck gave him a critical look before chuckling quietly, not quite falling for his wisecracking sarcasm. Her mouth drooped in a way that suggested she wanted to say more but she stayed silent, merely observing him with curiosity filled eyes.

 _Huh. That’s a first._ Porco had finally done something to render the gal speechless.

In those melodramatic old fashioned black and white films his parents used to watch, this was usually the part where the gentleman would make some sort of attempt to charm his leading lady by virtue of his natural charisma or whatever snazzy line was written in the script.

But this wasn’t exactly _Sunset Boulevard_ or _Roman Holiday_. Reality was completely devoid of idealistic conceptions of romance as depicted by Hollywood. Nothing was as romantic as it was portrayed in the movies- and Porco didn’t exactly perceive relationships with rose-colored lenses.

Still, he wanted to try his hand at these newfound superficial interests. Whatever would help pass the time. That _and_ he wanted to avoid potentially awkward conversation by filling the silent gap with an attempt at courtesy.

He puffed once more and asked ever so calmly, “Want one?”

Pieck hesitated at first, pondering the many cons of smoking. “I can’t,” she replied, uncertain. “It’ll give Meatball secondhand smoke.”

Porco knew it was a long-shot. A part of him was convinced his efforts to coax her would fail miserably, but he opted to make a move anyway.

“Then come over,” he said.

It was neither a plea nor a command. Only a simple suggestion that she had every right to decline and there’d be no hard feelings whatsoever. He was surprised by how casual he was able to appear through it all, like he was far more comfortable with the possibility of rejection than even the most confident of gents.

He didn’t actually start internally panicking, however, until he heard her say: “Okay.”

Pieck shot him a quirky grin, rolling her shoulders in a simple shrug as if to say ‘ _oh, to hell with it.’_

Well that was… easy.

Porco hurriedly snapped out of his incredulous trance, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under the weight of his boot. He honestly hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly- or _at all_ , for that matter- so he struggled with where to go from there.

His brain compiled a step-by-step once he had composed himself.

One: His door was locked. He should probably unlock it for her.

“I’ll let you in,” he told her, clearing his throat. He made flippant gesture towards his apartment’s entryway and Pieck nodded in understanding.

His step-by-step plan unfolded in a simple manner, like it was customary or strangely habitual.

Porco watched as his petite neighbor entered his apartment, then beckoned her to follow him back out to his balcony. Her spur-of-the-moment visit marked the first time she’d officially been inside his place; or the first time _any girl_ had ventured into his humble little abode. (His mother does _not_ count.) This particular milestone warranted something, right?

His internal quips were soon cast aside when the gravity of his current situation hit him like a bus.

He was alone with her- and although there had been multiple occasions where they’d been left alone together, Porco couldn’t shake the apprehension that tightened his muscles so reflexively. Perhaps the mischievous sparkle in her eye was to blame… or perhaps he was overthinking things as he often did.

 _Right_. Pieck had agreed to join him for a casual smoke and nothing more.

Pensive distractions squared away, he offered her a cigarette and watched as she placed it between her lips. It became increasingly obvious it was her first time doing this. Pieck didn’t strike him as a smoker, and the look she gave him as she waited for him to pull out his lighter was just about the most innocent thing he’d ever laid his eyes on.

After giving the lighter a couple flicks, Porco successfully lit her cigarette. He then withdrew his hand, scrutinizing every detail of the inexperience exhibited on her face. Every delicate feature was accentuated by the small glow of the tiny blaze guarded by her palm. Pieck paused, and held her breath as though to savor the feeling in her lungs. When she drew her first exhale, she clumsily let out a series of tiny coughs.

Fuck, that shit was cute.

Pieck and her virgin lungs made great company.

Like a true champ, Pieck gave her cigarette a few more puffs, but ultimately caved in to the groan rising from her chest and then shook her head, conceding defeat.

“I’m supposed to embody health and wellness.” She chuckled dejectedly. “And yet here I am, smoking.”

Porco understood. The failure of his peer pressuring was implicit in the grimace seared on her face. If she wasn’t feeling it, then neither was he.

He extended his hand towards her, offering to take her cigarette. “Here,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Pieck smiled softly, handing over what was left of it in silent relief. Porco tossed it to the ground and effectively put it out under his heel, just as he had with all the previous butts littering his patio.

With that out of the way, a new question had been raised.

What were they supposed to do now? Just… talk? _Okay…_ then talk about what?

Porco wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist, especially when faced with girls like Pieck.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

“I have an idea,” Pieck mused aloud, unaware she had just spared Porco from further humiliation. “There _is_ something else we could do. If you’re up for it.”

If Pieck had psychic abilities, Porco was certain she’d slap him for the first thing that came to mind. He hadn’t meant for his thoughts to go _there_ … but oops.

He tensed up a bit, struggling to dismiss the ridiculous notion altogether. “Like what?” he asked, noticing how close she was to him.

Pieck took her time responding, like she wanted him to guess before the reveal. Porco could only hope he wasn’t sweating nervously like Bertolt at this point. What a blubbering mess that guy was.

Except now, the shoe was on the other foot.

“The pool…” Pieck drawled, tilting her head to the side, “is usually vacant at this hour.”

Was she really suggesting they…?

“We could go for a swim,” she concluded.

Yup. She was really suggesting it. _Damn_. How the hell was she so level-headed about everything?

Porco thought it was crazy. She was crazy. This whole- whatever this was- was crazy.

But when he paused to mull over the stipulations of her suggestion, he quickly identified a few advantages to playing along.

He’d always considered himself to be a more modest guy, but how could he turn down the opportunity to show off his toned abs and broad shoulders? Especially under these circumstances? Hell, it was one of the few aspects of his life he’d developed any sort of confidence, and rightfully so.

The same would go for her. Unless Pieck swam in full bodysuits, she too would be revealing a bit more of herself than just the skimpy tank tops and tight leggings she would normally wear for the cycling studio.

Lest he forget, however, there _were_ a few downsides to consider. If it really turned out to be just the two of them in the pool, it may prove awkward. What exactly were they supposed to do? Splash around? Throw floaties at each other? And _his hair_. His trademark undercut style doesn’t look as sharp when it’s wet or immersed underwater for lengthy periods of time. At least not in his honest opinion.

Porco could’ve undergone a full-fledged introspection on the matter had it not been for the fact that Pieck was still waiting on an answer, playfully twisting the ends of her dark locks out of habit. Her daring eyes and mischievous grin did most of the convincing; simply too irresistible to turn down.

So he agreed.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said.

* * *

 

Porco strolled inside the heated room that served as an enclosure for the apartment complex’s indoor pool, situated one level below the main lobby.

Pieck hadn’t yet arrived, rendering him alone with an onslaught of conflicted thoughts. He found it odd for one thing that the room was devoid of any other inhabitants. Then again, it was Thursday night. Not exactly prime swimming time. Yet it seemed that was exactly what Pieck had intended. Admittedly, Porco liked the privacy of an indoor pool. Outdoor venues didn’t offer the same luxury.

Clad in a plain t-shirt and casual sweatpants, Porco approached a row of plastic chairs settled a few feet away from the pool and set down a small drawstring bag. Inside were several necessities; a couple of towels, his keys, and his phone- just in case.

He sat down and ran a hand through his hair, guarding his belongings while watching the small ripples of water in the pool roll over in crest-like patterns. When he stood back up to pull out one of the towels in his bag, Pieck made her entrance, subsequently reminding him of how very much alone they would be.

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” Pieck said, joining him by the row of plastic chairs. She paused to set her belongings next to his, then looked back up again. “I had to give Meatball his evening treat.”

Porco raised a brow, slightly humored that he was learning new things about their routine every day. “I just got here a couple minutes ago myself,” he told her, merely watching as she began quickly braiding her hair as a means to keep it out of her face.

“Nice timing,” Pieck chirped. She finished off her braid and quickly stepped out of her flip flops. Before Porco could internally chastise himself for staring, Pieck had already thrown off her top and slipped out of her shorts, revealing a lot more than he originally thought he was prepared for.

A simple blue triangle-style top adorned her chest and the bottom part of her two-piece ensemble rested at her hips, offering only moderate coverage from behind. The bikini fit her petite frame perfectly, hugging her breasts in every flattering way possible. Porco couldn’t stop himself from gawking, taking in the sight of her from top to bottom- then right back to the top again.

All that cycling had certainly paid off.

His wandering eyes followed her as she walked over to the pool’s edge, tracking every stride of her incredibly lean legs until they came to a stop. Oblivious to his ogling, Pieck took a brief moment to stretch and then dove into the pool, disappearing underneath the surface of the water with a light splash.

When she reemerged, she rotated herself to face Porco, staying afloat by merely wading in placid motion. She let out a small chuckle, finding his tentative state equal parts amusing and endearing.

“Care to join me?” she quipped. “Water’s fine.”

Porco snapped out of his absentminded daze and nodded, slightly flustered. “Yeah,” he muttered, still collecting himself. “Just give me a sec.”

With that, he kicked off his cheap footwear and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His exposed chest and abs earned a look of surprise from Pieck, her eyes skimming up and down his body in a way that validated all the hard work he’d put into his fitness regime.

While appreciating his fluffed ego, Porco slipped out of his sweatpants, leaving him in his trunks, and headed to the staircase at the shallow end. He dipped his feet in, then slowly submerged his entire body beneath the surface of the water, easing himself therapeutically.

As soon as he came up from the depths below, he shook his hair a couple times, certain it was messy but too absorbed in the euphoric sensation of the water to really care.

He drew in a deep breath, and then quietly released it in relaxed moderation. The immersive experience had him momentarily distracted from his neighbor’s company. Much to his surprise, she hadn’t assaulted him with a barrage of questions or tasteless jokes.

She was quiet… a little _too_ quiet.

Their eyes met when he turned her way. Before he could think of something to say to break the intermittent silence, however, Pieck had already made the first move, treading through the water to get closer to him. His heartrate spiked in elevation, alarmed by how quickly she had managed to shorten the distance between them.

She stopped merely a foot away, wading idly before him.

“Your hair’s a bit of a mess,” she teased. Her light and playful voice alone was enough to make him _melt_.

“I know,” Porco sighed, absentmindedly wondering what it would feel like if her hands were to run through his hair. That would probably feel nice. She’s certainly close enough to make it happen…

But to both his and his touch-starved hair’s dismay, she simply swept her gaze over him instead.

Porco felt rather self-conscious as she studied him, unsure if she’d spotted flaws and was silently mocking him.

Until she surprised him with an unexpected act.

“I’m gonna do something,” she said, expressionless. “Don’t get mad.”

Porco was sure his heart stopped. He was never a big fan of surprises, and the tension that stirred from the steady buildup of suspense made him feel a tad uneasy.

Still, he remained right where he was, blinking at her in intrigue. He thought he caught a glimpse of her lips twitch, as if in preparation to use them for a little more than just _talking_.

He wasn’t ready for this- yet it was all-too predictable!

Pieck moved even closer, to where he could feel the slight tickle of her breath on his skin. Then she lifted her right pointer finger up and-

_Boop_

It was a soft and gentle tap, aimed squarely for the sharp tip of his nose. Pieck simply couldn’t resist; the opportunity too great to ignore.

She’d just booped his nose. _Finally_. After having wanted to do so since first laying eyes on such a perfect specimen.

“Pieck…?!” Porco’s face instantly turned red and he averted his gaze. “Why?!” was all he could manage.

Pieck let out a laugh, seemingly satisfied. “You have the most adorable nose,” she replied, not even bothering to further explain her motive for doing so.

As she swam past him, Porco sulked in a few incoherent grumbles, until it dawned on him. Perhaps a small part of him was _actually_ enjoying this…

He traced his thumb over where her finger had brushed his nose, and then shook his head, preventing his thoughts from lingering over the matter too frivolously.

Ignoring the return of the warm feelings rising in his chest, he swam to meet her at the deeper end of the pool, watching as she leisurely commenced the backstroke in a sloppy circle ahead of him.

“Isn’t this nice?” Pieck asked, staring up at the ceiling as she stopped to float on her back.

Porco didn’t need clarification, but inquired anyway. “You mean the pool?”

Pieck closed her eyes, meditative. “That’s a part of it.”

Porco waited for her to continue, expecting her to say more. But she only sighed and maintained her floating position, perfectly at ease.

So he too turned on his back, rotating his body to keep afloat the exact way she had, mirroring her movements. Together, they stayed that way, both pairs of eyes directed towards the ceiling, neither saying a word.

 _Yeah_ , Porco thought. _It_ is _nice._

* * *

 

After they’d reemerged from the pool, the duo took a moment to dry themselves by the array of plastic chairs, putting their towels to good use.

Porco briefly examined the confines of the room as he finished toweling off. The pool lights glowed an eerie hue as the ripples on the water refracted at concentrated angles, creating abstract patterns on the dark walls surrounding them. The low lighting of the room itself added a blurred intensity to the effect, casting gleams of the reflected shapes in a curiously splayed manner.

Pieck draped her towel over her respective chair and sat down, cross-legged. Having mostly dried off, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thin tank top; her quickie extra change of clothes.

Porco joined her, sitting on the adjacent chair as he rummaged through his own bag for a dry shirt. While in mid-search, Porco felt a small strain above his shoulder; nothing more than the usual workday soreness.

He lifted his hand to nurse the slight ache, an act that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Pieck. She’d also caught a glimpse of the stiffened look on his face, detecting his pained demeanor.

“You okay?” she asked softly. “You look a little tense.”

Porco nodded. “I’m fine. Probably just overexerted myself at work is all.” He rolled his shoulders back, the attempt failing to resolve the issue.

Pieck wasn’t at all convinced his methods were useful, and therefore decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally, her own hands.

“Here,” she said, rising from her seat. “Let me help.” She positioned herself behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Uh, Pieck…?” Porco stopped talking as soon as he felt her hands massage his shoulders in circular motions, then firmly along his shoulder blades. She _really_ knew how to use those hands.

“How’s that?” Pieck asked, halting the strange trajectory of his thoughts. “Better?”

 _Fuck yes_ , was what Porco was dying to say. Instead, he cleared his throat and replied with a sarcastic remark. “I thought physical therapy and massage therapy were different.”

Pieck sighed. “A physical therapist’s scope of practice goes way beyond massage therapy.” Then, sheepishly she added, “And you’re not a patient. You’re a friend. I’m doing this service free of charge by the way.”

If it was commonplace for ‘friends’ to give one another very platonic massages every now and again, Porco wondered if and when he’d have to return the favor at some point.

He also wondered what kind of awkward sensation he’d feel if someone were to walk in on them right then and there.

“Can I ask you something?” Pieck spoke up after a solid minute of firmly caressing his shoulders and upper back, her quiet voice echoing in the otherwise empty room.

Porco waited to answer until she’d hit the right spot. Platonically of course. “Go ahead.”

“It’s more of a favor, actually,” Pieck clarified.

Porco was only half-paying attention now, biting back a deep moan. “Mmmhmmm,” was all he relayed back to her, his eyes closed.

“So long story short, I’m gonna be out of town for a few days to visit my parents,” Pieck continued, her hands still working their magic. “And I need someone to watch Meatball for me.”

Porco hadn’t quite caught on. “Oh. Interesting.” He was on cloud nine.

But he crashed back down to Earth when Pieck finally got to the point.

“Can you dogsit for me?” she pled, whispering in his ear so daintily and borderline seductive. “And keep an eye on my place while I’m gone?”

Porco froze, eyes bursting wide open. He fell right for her trap! She played him like putty in her hands! Toyed with his emotions! For fuck’s sake, he should’ve known from the start. She’d spent the whole time buttering him up; her efforts carefully crafted and calculated by way of her innocent charm, her string bikini, the subtle wriggling of her breasts, her complimenting his ‘adorable’ nose- and _now_ massaging the strain above his shoulders.

All so she could get him to agree to dogsit.

Such devious ulterior motives.

“Why don’t you take him with you?” Porco asked, his one and only shot at saving himself.

“I had planned on it,” Pieck began, sighing in dejection. “But my parents have a dog as well, and he hates poor Meatball with a passion. We’ve tried separating them and closing them off from one another via baby gates but it’s just too much of a hassle.” Pieck paused the massage, tracing her hands from the tops of his shoulders down to the curves of his biceps. “Besides, you live right next door. All the more convenient, yes?”

Checkmate.

Porco realized he’d been duped but in spite of his reluctance he complied with her request, figuring she’d put in the effort to convince him- and more than likely would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Perhaps he was too tired to put up any sort of resistance as well.

“Okay. Fine,” he said, grimacing. “I’ll watch him.”

Pieck expressed her gratitude in the purest form of enthusiasm, smiling wide as ever. “Thank you so much!” She wrapped her arms around him, enclosing him in a tight hug.

Accepting the circumstances for what they were, Porco let out a deep breath.

He and the pooch were going to have to learn to get along for the next few days.

 _Well, shit…_ he thought. _What’s the worst that could happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's the worst that could happen" is usually something one says right before the worst happens lmao
> 
> but not in this case! :D hopefullyyyy


	12. Please Don't Go, Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter out before work *really* gets hectic, so please enjoy this next update!
> 
> I was on a hike with my dad the other day and there was this adorable little corgi out with his family and i was like 'LOL Meatball!' :'D  
> Kinda motivated me to hurry up and edit this chapter!
> 
> I also wanted to thank those who have donated to my Ko-fi page! :') It means a lot to have your support and if there's anything in particular I can do please let me know! I'm thinking of opening requests soon and I'll try to speed up my updates a little lol but anywayssss just give me a holler! Seriously, I'm beyond grateful and will do my best to stay consistent! IT MEANS A LOT!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :')

_"WILSON! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, WILSON!"_

_Cast Away, 2000_

* * *

Pieck must have been running behind schedule.

Her frantic movements gave off the impression of urgency, but oddly enough the quiet expression settled on her face remained perfectly calm as she strolled about her apartment, bouncing from room to room to ensure all her belongings had been packed for the upcoming trip to her parent’s place.

In between shuffling back and forth from her suitcase to her room, she doled out simple instruction to a very patient and somewhat confused Porco, who’d taken a seat on the couch in the living room as he watched such a curious sight unfold.

“And if you leave for work, make sure you have his toys out or else he’ll go on the hunt for shoes as an alternative.” Pieck emphasized her point by directing Porco’s attention to a pair of her old sneakers sitting right outside her closet. They’d been torn to shreds; a consequence of leaving Meatball alone for too long without any means of entertaining himself.

Once Pieck had finished packing her suitcase, she moved on to the next order of business and compiled a small bag designated for Meatball’s toys, his leash, food and water bowls, and other miscellaneous necessities.

Alas, her instruction was not yet complete.

“I usually take him for two walks a day. Once in the morning and once in the late afternoon or early evening. As for his training regime, you’ll be watching him during his rest days so you lucked out. Aside from that, he may need to go out to pee and what not. And he only asks nicely _once_. If you ignore his whining, he’ll go berserk and start barking.”

But wait! There’s more!

“I brush his fur once a day, before bedtime. You won’t have to worry about bathing him. I took care of that last night. He eats twice a day. Breakfast in the morning. Dinner in the late afternoon. Don’t feed him anymore than that or he’ll gain weight. And absolutely no table scraps!”

Porco wondered if he should’ve taken notes or something. It shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to retain all of this, right? He was confident his memory was capable of storing this overload of information.

Oh… she wasn’t finished yet?

“He likes cuddling, and he’ll probably want to sit on your lap if you’re lounging around on the couch. Fair warning: He might also ask to sleep with you on your bed-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Porco had to stop her there. “ _My_ bed? No way, Pieck. I was planning on leaving him here, at your place, when I go to bed.”

Pieck was instantly horrified, disgusted even. “You can’t leave him alone at night. That’s cruel!”

“I’m literally right next door,” Porco replied, attempting to reason with her. “I agreed to watch him but I didn’t agree to let him sleep over.”

“You’re going to leave him all alone?” Pieck frowned, _grimaced_ , like she’d been knocked down and kicked in the gut. “He has separation anxiety. It’s bad enough that _I’m_ going to be gone.”

Porco knew what she was doing. Knew exactly what her strategy was.

While it may have been easy to use very platonic and nonsexual massages as a bargaining chip to get him to submit, her plan to guilt-trip him with glossy eyes and pouty lips would prove ineffective this time around.

But then Porco made the fatal mistake of peering over at Meatball, the prized pooch in question who’d been eyeing him with the biggest grin on his furry little face, tail wagging vigorously.

_No! I’m not falling for it!_

Porco looked back at Pieck, still clearly devastated by his defiance.

“Pieck,” he began with a frustrated sigh, “he’s going to shed all over my sheets. And then my bed will smell like _dog_.”

“Are you saying that Meatball smells bad?” Now Pieck was offended.

“Not _bad_ ,” Porco clarified. “All dogs have a certain smell.” How should he word this exactly?

Was there any way out of this dilemma? Between the looks both Pieck and the little corgi were giving him, Porco realized he’d have to resort to compromising.

“How about this?” Porco motioned to the object behind Meatball; a practical item that served as a prospective solution. “You have a doggy bed for him. I’ll take it to my place and put it right next to my bed when we go to sleep.” There. Problem solved.

At least the gesture seemed to appease Pieck. “Okay,” she said quietly. “As long as he’s not _alone_.” She moved on from her worrisome ruminations and paced about her bedroom, wondering if she had forgotten anything.

Porco took note her uncertainty and sought to assist in the calming of nerves. “You’ll only be gone for four days,” he reminded her, standing up from the couch with resolve. “Meatball’s gonna be fine.”

Pieck nodded in understanding. “I know,” she said with a smile. “I trust you.”

That was important. She couldn’t trust just anybody with her prized pooch. He was sensitive and far too precious to be left in unworthy hands.

“It’s almost ten,” Pieck said, glancing down at her phone. “I have to get going. It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive.” She cringed. “And I’ll have to refill up on gas before I leave the city.”

She scooped Meatball up in her arms, assailing him with kisses he was more than eager to reciprocate.

“I’ll be back soon, my sweet prince,” she cooed.

Porco rolled his eyes, arms placed on his hips. This whole spectacle was a little overdramatic.

With a parting kiss and a wistful _“I love you,”_ Pieck let Meatball back down. Then she handed Porco the bag of toys and necessities- _and_ the spare key to her apartment.

The gesture had him taken completely by surprise.

“What’s this for?” he asked, a bit awkward.

“You’re gonna need the spare key,” Pieck replied. “So you can check on my place, of course. More importantly though, you’ll have to come here to restock his dog food.” She pointed towards the pantry in the kitchenette. “His food and treats are at the very bottom.”

That should just about cover everything. Almost everything-

“Here’s his vet’s phone number in case of emergencies,” Pieck said, handing Porco a small slip of paper. “If you have any non-medical related questions, you can always call or text me.”

Porco accepted the slip of paper, giving it a once over before putting it in his pocket. “Sure thing,” he responded absentmindedly. He was still trying to process his sudden possession of the extra key, feeling inexplicably underserving of such responsibility. Wasn’t that a privilege usually reserved for family or… significant others?

Sure, he was going to need it for the purpose of keeping a watchful eye on her place, but it still felt strange knowing she trusted him to such a degree of confidence.

Fuck. This was like… third base.

Porco came to his senses when he heard Pieck speak up again.

“Thanks again for doing me a solid,” she said, taking hold of her suitcase.

“No problem,” Porco said. “I’ll walk you out.”

Pieck smiled, leading the way. Meatball trailed their trajectory out the door and down the hallway towards the elevator, to which Porco realized he’d have to pick up the mischievous corgi so he wouldn’t follow Pieck any further than that.

Before the elevator doors had closed, Pieck turned to face them, a somber smile etched on the delicate features of her face. “Bye,” she said, her tone slightly remorseful.

Meatball whimpered softly in Porco’s arms, so he did his best to console him with soothing pats on the head. “Bye, Pieck,” he said in return. “Have a safe trip.”

The elevator doors slowly merged together.

And she was gone.

* * *

 

Meatball moped around Porco’s apartment in an effort to stave off the depression that resulted from Pieck’s absence. He slumped into his doggy bed, struggling to find any consolation in sleeping away the emotional distress.

Porco ignored the dog’s sulking at first, fixating his attention to whatever news was being broadcasted on his TV in the living room. It was more of the same. Traffic was messy. The eastside strangler had struck again. The only good news was the weather- clear skies and sunshine through the entire weekend.

When he returned his gaze to Meatball, he was perturbed to find that he hadn’t budged an inch, still curled in his ball of misery.

Out of what he could only surmise was some semblance of sympathy, Porco strode over to the bag Pieck had prepared for his dogsitting ventures and rummaged through its contents.

He picked out the most flamboyant of the squeaky toys and fidgeted with it in his hands for a brief moment, taking a deep breath before setting aside his dignity and dangling it in front of the pooch.

Putting on a half-assed show elicited no response.

“Really, dude?” Porco huffed. The dog was acting as if Pieck was dead or something. He was beyond devastated- and she’d only been gone for half an hour! 

Luckily, Porco hadn’t ran out of ideas just yet. He reached into the bag once more, this time pulling out Meatball’s harness and leash.

“How about a walk then?” he suggested, holding up both items for Meatball to see.

The dog’s head perked up at the mention, his interest piqued.

“That a ‘yes’?” Porco chuckled, in spite of himself.

Meatball lifted himself from his comfy position in the doggy bed and walked towards his temporary guardian, reluctance dissipating with each step.

“Come on, boy,” Porco encouraged, crouching down to meet the dog at eye level. When Meatball was close enough, he placed the harness on him, adjusting it with care. Then he attached the leash and promptly stood back up, nodding toward the door.

“Ready?” Porco asked, testing the leash’s strength and consistency.

Meatball’s firm response was an eager bark, his spirits seemingly lifted.

Porco half-smiled. All systems go. “Let’s head out.”

* * *

 

Later that evening, after Porco and Meatball had returned from a productive walk, the duo lounged around the living room of his apartment and watched more stupid crap on TV.

“Crazy to think there can be so many channels, but not a single thing worth watching…” Porco muttered bitterly to himself. He looked over at Meatball, as if searching for confirmation that his statement wasn’t _entirely_ pretentious.

Meatball merely panted in exhaustion, still a bit tuckered out from their prior excursion. He lay flat on his belly, stubby legs all sprawled out in opposing directions, and eyes closed as though savoring his graceful period of rest. Whatever was displayed on the television screen or whatever complaints Porco was grumbling about flew right over his furry little head. Unfazed. Uncaring. Like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

And why should he? He’s a dog.

Porco huffed disdainfully at Meatball’s lackadaisical existence. “Must be nice.”

Must be nice to live so carefree. To not have any responsibilities. To have someone feed you, love on you, and practically wait on you hand and foot.

And it sure as hell must be nice to get to cuddle with Pieck.

Not that Porco wanted to know what that was like. Or maybe he did. Who knows. It was hard to tell exactly how he felt about her. Simply put: these feelings were unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Which was odd given that he’d been in relationships before. Plenty of ‘em. And he definitely was no spring chicken. Not like some of his old buddies, or hell, his older brother.

Marcel had always been the more conservative of the two growing up. Shy around girls. Usually hesitated to make the first move. Had his first kiss at eighteen. A real hopeless romantic at heart.

Porco on the other hand, considered himself a bit more… curious. At least that was the innocent way of describing his sexuality. He knew for a fact he had lost his virginity before his brother even had his first kiss, and it was obvious he had been in far more relationships overall; serious, casual, and everything in between. Regardless of the number of girls he’d been with in the past, Porco couldn’t recall a single time when he felt anything at all like how he felt around Pieck.

Be it uneasiness or enlivenment, confusion or arousal, the twisted knots in his stomach upon seeing her smile, or the jolt he’d feel coursing through his veins from her electrifying touch, all Porco knew for sure was that these particular feelings were trying to tell him something. That they weren’t jostling his emotions around merely for the sake of toying with him.

And he couldn’t get away with ignoring them for long.

With the realization that he was well on his way to being truly fucked still sinking in, Porco let out a perturbed groan and grabbed the remote, fed up with his complicated thoughts.

His brief and somewhat scatterbrained channel surfing eventually led him to the wonderful land of classic action films spanning from Hollywood’s golden age to the mid-nineties. Tonight’s feature film? _Die Hard_ , starring Bruce Willis in all his ass-kicking glory.

Gunshots rang from the TV, followed by a few stock sound effects to exaggerate the hardcore punches being exchanged between the hero and his foes. Meatball’s head perked up at the sudden onslaught of action sequences, wagging his tail in excitement as his eyes instantly shot toward the screen.

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker,” Porco mouthed, perfectly in tandem with the action hero on screen. He’d long since lost count how many times he’d seen this movie, as well as the countless sequels that spawned following its success. It had always been one of his favorites. Seriously, what’s not to love?! Sure, he could watch it virtually whenever, but the _best_ time to watch _Die Hard_ was around Christmastime.

He’d fight anyone who had the nerve to say it wasn’t a Christmas movie.

_Die Hard is a fucking Christmas movie._

Before he could share his personal sentiment with Meatball (and then promptly question his sanity for talking to a dog), the little guy barked a single beat, his piercing gaze still glued to the television.

Porco quirked a petulant brow and then half-smiled, amused at how invested Meatball was in Bruce Willis’ legendary performance.

Fancy that. They've bonded over their mutual affinity for the _Die Hard_ franchise.

* * *

 

The unconventional sleepover of the century began innocently enough.

Porco ensured that everything had gone according to plan. Meatball’s doggy bed was situated near his own queen-size mattress, perfectly fluffed and embellished with a couple ‘special’ blankets. He even threw in a couple chew-toys as a consolation of sorts- in case Meatball felt like chewing on something in the middle of the night?

Right before Porco was about to turn off the lamp at his nightstand and officially hit the hay, his phone buzzed. It was a simple text message from Pieck. Well, a simple _request_ really.

 **10:14pm – Pieck:** Hey neighbor! Hope you two had fun today! ;) Can you tell Meatie I said goodnight? :) please and thank you!

Porco stared at the message for a few moments, contemplating how to respond sans the revelation that Meatball had been relentlessly depressed for the first hour after she’d gone. By virtue of his crafty quick-thinking abilities, he managed something meaningful.

 **10:16pm – Porco:** He has a thing for 80s action flicks, so I guess he’s alright. We went on a walk earlier too. Seemed pretty tuckered out when we came back

 **10:16pm – Porco:** I’ll tell him you said goodnight

That should be enough to satisfy her greedy demands.

 **10:17pm – Pieck:** Pics! Now!

Or not.

Porco shook his head, feigning ignorance to the wide-awake pup in question and his furious tail-wagging. He was tempted to be an asshole and ask Pieck to clarify exactly _what kind of pics_ she was requesting in particular.

But he wasn’t _that_ guy.

And he didn’t want to risk anything weird. What if Pieck was actually a freak?!

If there was an explanation for how and why his thoughts commenced a downward spiral into sexting, he’d rather just not know.

As soon as the thought of strangling himself had subsided, Porco pulled up the camera app on his phone and quickly snapped a photo of Meatball, not even bothering with retakes in spite of the dull lighting and awkward angle from which it was taken. He hit send and left it at that, convinced that whoever came up with the old adage ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ was probably a nosy and ungrateful bastard.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Pieck responded with several heart-eyes emojis, followed by sentiments of approval.

 **10:20pm – Pieck:** Awww! My baby! Isn’t he just so perfect?? LOL

 **10:20pm – Pieck:** Thanks again Pork! I’ll text again in the morning!

Woah, woah, woah-

 **10:21pm – Porco:** Pork?

 **10:21pm – Pieck:** oops! Autocorrect. You know…

 **10:21pm – Pieck:** :’D

To be fair, that wasn’t the first time he’d been referred to as ‘Pork’ by mistake. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

It probably wasn’t even a mistake, come to think of it. Freudian slip, maybe?

 **10:22pm – Porco:** Yeah… happens a lot. Not a big deal.

Unless it was Reiner Braun. Then it was a big deal.

 **10:22pm – Porco:** Night Pieck

He turned off the light at his nightstand, shifted himself comfortably in bed, and then read her final parting message.

 **10:23pm – Pieck:** Goodnight :)

He wanted to smile. Genuinely wanted to give in and allow his lips to curve upward in amusement.

He couldn’t. Not entirely at least. Not when his thoughts were still a tangled web of convoluted and conflicted emotions.

It wasn’t until after Porco had shut his phone off and set it aside on the nightstand that soft and subtle whining suddenly brought him out of the depths of his meditative brooding. He lifted himself up from his bed and peered below to where he’d set up Meatball’s lavish sleeping accommodations.

The dog bed was empty, and the furry owner of said bed had positioned himself near the nightstand, upright on his hind legs in a poised begging stance. He whined again, as if humbly asking permission to seek refuge between the sheets of his temporary guardian.

Porco rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he possibly deny Meatball access to his bed with _that_ look? A look so utterly pathetic yet ridiculously adorable?

Fuck.

“Fine,” Porco grunted, patting the space next to him. “Come on then.”

_Before I regret this._

Meatball wasted no time hurling himself onto the bed, planting his voluptuous physique firmly at the center of the plush mattress. He offered a small gesture of gratitude by way of licking Porco’s exposed hand, to which Porco merely nodded before promptly resuming sleep mode.

He closed his eyes, feeling himself drift away to the soft lulls of Meatball’s snoring.

For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel so… alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porco and Meatball like Die Hard because reasons.
> 
>  
> 
> Pieck is Tom Hanks and Meatball is Wilson in this chapter.


	13. I always feel like... somebody's watchin' me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pieck's return in snk 115 was so powerful
> 
> breathe if you agree

_"I know something about this dog. She's going somewhere- she's on her way."_

_Lassie Come Home, 1943_

* * *

 

Porco woke up to sloppy wet kisses all over his face the next morning.

Meatball communicated as such in an effort to get his temporary guardian out of bed and into the kitchen where his little dog bowls were placed; desolate and empty. It was breakfast time, and an early riser like Pieck would’ve been up and at ‘em hours ago.

“Agh, okay, okay, I’m getting up!” Porco raised his hand to cover his face, but failed in deflecting yet another onslaught of sloppy wet kisses from reaching his unguarded chin and shoulder.

Meatball barked in affirmation and hopped off the bed, scampering off into the kitchen with his short stubby legs.

With a half-assed stretch, Porco forced himself up and groggily followed the corgi’s hunger-fueled trajectory out of his room. His feet were cold against the hardwood floors, and he made a mental note to turn the thermostat up after feeding his guest.

As expected, Meatball sat himself down next to his food and water bowls, panting heavily in anticipation. After filling the water bowl, Porco carefully measured two scoops of kibble from the Pedigree bag Pieck had left for him and plopped them inside the food bowl.

He stepped aside and watched as the corgi devoured his meal like he hadn’t been fed in days.

Disdain contorted Porco’s expression as he inwardly mocked Meatball for ‘being a pig.’ Ironically enough, the thought inexplicably triggered his childhood nickname. _Porky the pig_. (Sure, he’d long since accepted his name for what it is, but seriously, his parents really set him up for a loss from the start.)

“Slow down there, little dude,” Porco sighed. “Food’s not going anywhere.” His remark went completely ignored. Predictable.

Indifferent to Meatball’s gluttony, Porco strolled down the hallway to check the thermostat. The temperature read sixty-nine degrees.

_Reiner Braun’s favorite number…_

Oh god. He could already hear Braun’s boisterous snickering and corny jokes. He didn’t want to ruin what had started out as a decent morning so he turned it up a single notch out of spite. Seventy degrees. Nice even number. Much better.

When he returned to the kitchen (Meatball still chomping away) the first thing he laid eyes on was the calendar. The current date was circled and written in blue ink inside the box was a reminder: _Marcel_.

Porco raked his hand through his hair and cursed at his own lapse in memory. He’d nearly forgotten about visiting his brother- inadvertently so, but excuses did nothing to ease the guilt swelling in his chest.

Visiting hours were in effect from 11am to 4pm. He had plenty of time.

Meatball would have to forgive him for leaving.

While planning the day out in his head, Porco started a pot of coffee and dressed himself in casual attire, mindful of the chilly weather outside. He had the day off from work and figured he could take Meatball for a walk after seeing his brother, maybe even go on a quick smoke run. Granted, he’d have to wait to light up- Pieck wouldn’t appreciate Meatball inhaling secondhand smoke, unintentional or not. To honor her wishes, it was a small sacrifice he was willing to make.

After eating a quick breakfast, Porco grabbed his car keys from a tray in the foyer and made his way to the living room. He remembered Pieck’s instructions: leave toys out for Meatball if left alone.

 _Why stop there?_ Porco thought. He snatched the TV remote from the couch and surfed through several channels to find something, _anything_ , that would suffice as decent background noise. Most dogs found it comforting, right?

Porco’s search first came across _Old Yeller_. Most dogs would probably _not_ find that one comforting.

Shit, it was the scene where the poor kid had to shoot his own dog.

_“No, mama!”_

_“There’s no hope for him now, Travis. He’s suffering. You know we’ve got to do it.”_

_“Yes, mama. But he was my dog. I’ll do it.”_

Moving on… Next!

 _Marley and Me_ was on the next channel- and it just so happened to be _that_ scene.

_“You remember how we were always saying what a pain you are... that you're the world's worst dog? Don't believe it. Don't believe it even for a minute. 'Cause you know we couldn't find a better dog. You know what made you such a... great dog is you loved us every day, no matter what. That's an amazing thing. You know how much we love you? We love you so much. I love you more than anything. I don't know exactly where we go from here... but I want you to remember you're a great dog, Marley. You're a great dog.”_

“For fuck’s sake,” Porco muttered, changing the channel once again. He could only hope Meatball was in another room, sniffing around without a care in the world.

When Meatball finally arrived from whatever escapade he’d indulged in, _Spongebob Squarepants_ graced the screen. Porco had to cycle through _Lassie_ , _Hachi: A Dog’s Tale_ , and _John Wick_ of all things before finding it. Who knew Hollywood had such a dark obsession with dying dogs?

“There,” Porco said breathlessly, setting the remote back down. “That shouldn’t be too traumatizing.”

* * *

 

Marcel was awake.

Porco walked into his room half-expecting him to be asleep, but was instantly relieved to see his deep brown eyes slowly blink open. Half-lidded, but open.

The heart-rate monitor beat to its usual steady rhythm and the window curtain was drawn back, allowing for golden peeks of sunlight to seep into the room.

Porco sat himself in a chair at his brother’s bedside after pulling his copy of _Where the Red Fern Grows_ from the shelf. He’d left it there on his previous visit, intent on picking up from where they left off the week prior.

He read a few pages out loud, casting intermittent glances at Marcel to ease his own nerves.

But he stopped when his gaze on Marcel’s hollow expression lingered a little longer than he’d intended. By now, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell at a slightly slower rate.

Porco closed the book and set it in his lap. As he leaned back into the seat he mulled over what to say. Words never came easy to him under stressful circumstances- he often found it easier to say nothing at all.

Except the easy way never helped with anything. Not his guilt. Not his pain.

His silence was conducive to apathy.

He was done being silent. Even if he what he had to say was mere nonsense, he had to at least try and open up. Just talk. The gesture alone would be enough, he reasoned.

Porco looked up and sucked in a deep breath.

“I moved into a new place,” he began, tentative. “Mom and dad have stopped by a few times. You know how they get. Mom’s always worried about something. Dad’s just nosy.”

He shared brief anecdotes about his new job at the auto shop, breakfast with their parents, the night he met with Reiner and Bertolt at the bar, (he skipped the details of his failed hookup to keep his dignity intact) and his run-in with Annie at the gym.

“Reiner’s still a dumbass.” He chuckled. “You’re not missing much there. But Bert and Annie moved in together. Finally. It’s crazy, I mean, they’ve been dating for two years now. We all know Bert’s been in love with her for… god knows how long. You’d be surprised though. He worked his ass off just to get her to agree to go out with him. Doesn’t help that she’d been oblivious to his feelings all these years, but still it’s… I guess I’m happy for them.”

Porco felt at ease, filling his brother in on what their friends were up to and other things he’d missed out on during his stay in the care facility.

He’d just about covered everything- everything except his neighbor.

“And then there’s Pieck,” he said, pausing to reflect on the girl in question. “She’s the tenant next door. Her dog woke me up with his stupid barking one morning at around four or five? That’s how we met.”  

Porco described every run-in he’d had with Pieck since then; the grocery store, the walk at the park, the time he took her to work in his truck when her car wouldn’t start, the cycle session at the studio, and the infamous swimming pool incident back at the apartment complex. (Again, he skipped the details of the latter to keep his dignity intact.)

“She’s…”

He stopped. Pieck was… _what_? His neighbor, his friend…

Should’ve been easy to come up with a single word to define her. She’s cool. She’s nice. She’s smart. She’s crazy.

“She’s Pieck,” was all Porco could manage.

* * *

 

Porco stayed in Marcel’s room until visiting hours were over.

The visit was lengthier than he’d planned, but so long as he kept true to his word, Porco had no qualms with something as trivial as the mere passing of time.

Meatball, on the other hand, had his grievances.

As soon as Porco waltzed into his humble abode, the lifeless bodies of his favorite pair of running shoes lay torn and tattered on the hardwood floors of the hallway.

“Damn,” Porco exhaled. Out of all the ratty old sneakers and scuffed up boots in his closet, o _f course_ the rebellious mutt decides to tear his prized Nikes to shreds.

Meatball woke from his midday nap and trotted from the living room to where Porco stood in the hallway, still silently mourning the poor soles. He greeted him with a bark, unfazed by the massacre he committed- and the consequences that would never follow.

“You demon.” Before Porco could avenge the dearly departed, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The ID belonged to the demon’s mother. “Hey, Pieck. Your dog is evil,” he said without preamble.

“Well hello to you, too,” Pieck replied, slightly amused, slightly offended. “What happened? What did he do?”

Porco huffed, opting to save them both a headache and possible hurt feelings. “Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Just felt like saying that.”

Pieck clicked her tongue. “That’s not very nice. And don’t say things like that to him. He’s very sensitive.”

“He… what now?”

“Anyway I called because I completely forgot to tell you about his vitamins!”

“His…? What now?”

“His vitamins. They’re like doggy supplements for his joints. He’s supposed to take them daily.”

“Oh.”

“So I need you to do me a favor. Go into my apartment and into the kitchen- you remember what it looks like, right? You’ve been in there before. Anyway, his vitamins are in the cupboard next to the pantry. First shelf. Black bottle with a Dalmatian on the label. Can’t miss it.”

Porco dutifully retained the information, mapping out the trajectory in his head.

“Okay,” he said. “Cupboard next to the pantry. First shelf. Black bottle. Got it.”

“Thank you so much, Porco!” Pieck chirped. “Give him a kiss for me, will ya? Gotta go! Bye!”

“Bye.” Porco left his refusal to kiss Meatball unsaid.

He set his phone on the counter and grabbed Pieck’s spare key from the top dresser in his room. (Pieck had urged him to keep it someplace ‘secret’ and for reasons unknown to him his sock drawer was the first thing that sprung to mind.) Then he marched back down the hallway, gesturing for Meatball to follow.

“Come on, boy,” he commanded. “We’re going to your place.”

Meatball obeyed his instruction, tail wagging at the prospect of returning home.

Porco unlocked Pieck’s door with the key and took a moment to familiarize himself with the layout of her apartment. Meatball scurried past him, disappearing into Pieck’s bedroom with the hope that she’d played a harmless little trick on him and had actually been there the whole time.

The dejected whines echoing from her room promptly followed suit.

Porco, meanwhile, had no trouble accomplishing his task. The supplements were exactly where Pieck said; Dalmatian on the label and all.

“Got your meds, you crazy bastard,” Porco called out, shaking the half-empty bottle like it was a maraca. “Let’s go. We still have to go out for your evening walk.”

No response.

“Meatball?” Porco ambled out of the kitchen, but came to an immediate halt right outside Pieck’s bedroom. The corgi had curled himself in a ball on her bed, ignoring Porco’s persistent reminders about their evening walk and dinner time. 

Porco hesitated to enter her bedroom. It felt so… intrusive. Like he’d be violating her privacy or trespassing on sacred ground. From what he saw, it was a little messy, but the chaos seemed fitting of her personality. The bed was made- her sheets a pale pink color and adorned with several stuffed animals. It smelled of lavender and citrus, much like the bath and body works candles on her nightstand.

Clothes were tossed carelessly in a hamper, the blinds to the window were half-drawn, and her gym bag lay wide open in the middle of the room, its contents spilled on the carpeted floor like she’d either completely forgotten about it or left it in a hurry.

Porco was unsure if he was allowed to venture inside. Not wanting to take any chances, he tried his luck at calling for Meatball once more, but failed- even after offering to turn a blind eye to the destruction of his running shoes.

“She’s not here,” Porco reasoned. “You’re staying with me until she gets back. Now come on, let’s go.”

The diplomatic approach failed miserably. So after releasing a groan in resignation, Porco decided to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

“Fine.” He stuffed the supplements into the back pocket of his jeans and scooped the stubborn dog up into his arms.

Much to his surprise, Meatball put up no resistance, stubby legs dangling from his grasp.

“You’ll cheer up when we head out to the park,” Porco assured him as they neared the door. He carefully shifted Meatball a bit to accommodate his weight with one arm and used his free hand to turn the knob.

When he opened the door, he was met with the face of a complete and total stranger.

“Jesus…!” Porco stepped back and tightened his grip on Meatball, completely startled. The stranger was equally alarmed, but suspiciously so. He was tall, had blond hair and a scruffy beard to match, and wore glasses. He looked familiar…

“Who are you?” The stranger beat him to the punch.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Porco replied, cautious. “I’m right next door. The gal who lives here gave me the spare key and asked me to keep an eye on the place.”

“She did?” The stranger quirked a brow. He gave Porco a brief once over, seemingly unimpressed. “I take it Pieck’s outta town then.”

Porco nodded, but held off from explaining any further. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he sizing him up? How did he know Pieck? What was he doing here?!

“Can I… help you with something?” Porco asked, narrowing his eyes. Any attempts to come off as intimidating were futile when the realization dawned on him; he probably looked less threatening with a corgi in his arms.

 _Wait a minute._ Porco had seen him in a picture with Pieck the night he came to visit for dinner. Was he a friend? Or was he creeping on her?

Worse yet; did he think _Porco_ was the creepy one here?

Stranger’s reply interjected his thoughts. “No.” He shook his head and extended his arm toward Meatball, gently stroking the fur behind his ear. “Just needed to talk to her. I’ll try some other time.”

With that, he turned and walked away, opting to take the stairs in lieu of the elevator.

“That was weird,” Porco mumbled. He double-checked that Pieck’s door was locked. Then triple-checked for good measure.

He waited to let Meatball down until he’d reached the couch in his living room, ensuring his comfort with a blanket and single chew toy. After triple-checking that his own door was locked, he reached for his phone and quickly dialed Pieck’s number.

She didn’t pick up the first time. Porco tried again after gathering Meatball’s harness and leash.

“Hey what’s up?” she answered with a small yawn. “Did you get Meatie’s vitamins?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling.” Porco got right to the point. “Some guy stopped by. He wanted to talk to you but I told him you were out of town.”

Pieck hummed. “Some guy, huh?” She chuckled. “Happens to me a lot. It’s like I have my own fan club.”

Porco rolled his eyes. “Pieck, I’m serious. Is that guy bothering you? Should I let security know?”

“Pfffffttttt! If it’s who I think it is, then no. What was his name?”

“Didn’t get one.”

“Okay… what did he look like?”

“Blond. Beard. Glasses.”

“Ha! That’s Zeke. He’s not a stalker. Don’t worry.”

Porco was in fact worried. “So who is he then? Old friend? Regular at the studio?” He paused. “Boyfriend?”

“It’s… complicated,” Pieck replied. “And kind of a long story. But no, he’s not my boyfriend. We broke up a _long_ time ago.”

“…oh…”

“Yeah, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Not to you maybe. Does he come by often?” Was this a regular thing?!

“Eh, every now and then. Not so much anymore. Why?”

“That’s… weird.”

Pieck laughed. “How so?”

Porco facepalmed himself. “I don’t know. All I can say is that _my_ exes don’t make a habit out of showing up unannounced.” He found the idea of ‘being friends with exes’ rather off-putting. Annie Leonhart was the only exception in that regard. (Then again, they’d dated for a measly two weeks. Hardly a relationship worth crying over. Hell, hardly a relationship at all.)

“Mmmm, is that _really_ what’s bothering you?” Pieck teased. “Why so interested?”

Porco was glad this conversation was over the phone and not in person. Holy shit his entire face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m not being nosy,” he amended. “I’m just… trying to look out for you.” A pause. More clarification. “So you don’t get kidnapped or murdered.” Fuck, that came out a little rough.

“Much appreciated,” Pieck said with a sigh. “But you can relax. I’m safe and sound and in perfectly good health.”

Her word was enough convincing. “Okay.”

Pieck let out another tiny yawn, her tone softened. “I’ll be back in three days. Two after tomorrow. Just take care of Meatball. He’s the one you should be worried about. He’s probably losing his mind without me.”

Porco fixed his gaze toward the little rascal and smirked. “Yeah about that…”

 

Pieck promised to replace any and all casualties from Meatball’s shoe massacre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND TO THOSE WHO HAVE STUCK WITH ME AND MY SLOW ASS UPDATES: I LOVE YOU
> 
> this fic is already at 35k works! That's crazyyyyy!!!
> 
> special thanks to rinky, nury, jaz, and min !!! Y'all are so sweet and i can never thank y'all enough!! D':


	14. Pale Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DJ Khaled voice*: Another one
> 
> enjoy this next update, peeps! I got two birthday parties to attend today lmao so i gotta peace out and head to the mall and do some last-minute gift shopping because I'm an aries and i procrastinate! :D 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and being supportive :)

_"A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others."_

_The Wizard of Oz, 1939_

* * *

 

The next couple of days washed over in predictable fashion.

Porco and Meatball had fallen into a routine of sorts. Breakfast then morning walk. Lunch then afternoon errands (Porco) and midday nap (Meatball). Evening walk then dinner and channel surfing on the TV.

On the last morning they’d spent together, Porco incorporated their usual outing into his workout. He opted to skip the gym and go for a run at a nearby park, with Meatball as his running buddy. The park had a paved trail that looped around the lake, making it all the more convenient to keep track of the mileage incurred on the soles of his running shoes. (Replacement ones, of course.)

Porco set the pace nice and easy for the first lap, surprised by how Meatball had kept up. They passed several other dogs and their respective owners along the way, each varying in size and breed. Some dogs expressed interest in Meatball with firm barks, while others merely glanced and maintained their distance, loyal to their master’s side. Meatball seemed unfazed either way, focused only on matching Porco’s speed with his short corgi legs.

Given that his endurance easily outclassed that of his furry companion, Porco slowed down for a few intervals in between short but meticulously timed sprints. On again, off again. Run, rest, run, rest.

With three miles out of the way, they came to a stop at a rusted bench and caught their breaths. Porco guzzled down what was left of his water bottle after offering Meatball his fair share. He sat down and loosened the leash a bit, allowing for Meatball to wander a little farther off, sniff around, and then mark his territory.

Porco whistled, urging Meatball to stay close.

As the little corgi trotted back to the bench, Porco mused about several things. In spite of his stubborn nature and dramatic tendencies, Meatball actually made for a good workout buddy. Clearly, he was invested in leading an active lifestyle and his resolve was, oddly enough, _inspiring_. Motivating, even. It was common knowledge that exercise produced endorphins, and judging by the appeased look on Meatball’s face, he was on cloud nine.

Porco rewarded him with a few pats. Maybe it would be nice owning a dog. The companionship ought to be good for his health; both mental and physical.

Maybe, Porco thought, it would help him heal, too.

As he delved further into his quiet contemplation, Porco hadn’t noticed the large canine presence hurriedly charging towards Meatball. Startled, Meatball retreated to the bench and jumped onto Porco’s lap, jolting him from his detached reverie.

The curious intruder was a German Shepherd, equipped with the typical black and tan markings and sturdy build. He seemed to be a friendly fella, eyeing Meatball with playful intrigue.

“Thor!” a frantic voice called. “Come here, boy!”

Porco followed the voice, his peripherals led to a tall woman with short chestnut brown hair and freckles adorning her tan skin.

“Oh my god, that’s the third time today,” she grumbled, urging the German Shepherd a few steps back. “Sorry about that. The moment he sees another dog, he loses it. Tugged on my leash so hard, I almost bit the dirt!”

Porco assured no harm, no foul. “It’s okay. He gets a little nervous around bigger dogs, but he’ll be fine,” he explained, patting Meatball as a means of calming him.

The girl smirked. “Well there’s no need to be nervous, little guy,” she reasoned with the frightened corgi. “Thor’s a sweetheart. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

With a little encouragement, Meatball hopped down from Porco’s lap and approached the German Shepherd with caution, sniffing the ground between them with each tentative paw forward. They paused when they met nose to nose, and then took turns greeting one another by way of smelling the other’s unmentionables. Both were perfectly relaxed and comfortable after being properly acquainted, tails wagging in harmony.

“What’s his name?” the girl asked.

“Meatball,” Porco replied. When a look of amusement crept on the girl’s face, he was quick to add, “He’s not mine. A friend asked me to dogsit.”

The corgi’s name rolled off her tongue a couple times. “ _Meatball_ , huh? That’s cute, not gonna lie.” She looked back to her prized pooch, finally at ease. Youngster could be a handful at times. “Thor’s my favorite avenger in the MCU so naturally I had to name my dog after him.”

Porco grew up being more of an Iron Man fan, but held off from pursuing a discussion on the matter. He preferred casual comic book chit-chat when he didn’t look like he’d just sweat out his entire weight in water.

“Seems fitting,” was the only comment his exhausted state would allow. Still, he meant it. The German Shepherd breed was commonly referred to as ‘handsome’ and ‘majestic’- as was Thor in the MCU. Chris Hemsworth’s portrayal of the character might’ve had something to do with that, too.

After watching the dogs roll around in the grass for a brief moment of respite, the girl cleared her throat and introduced herself. “Name’s Ymir by the way,” she said.

“Porco,” came the obligatory reply. He was about to take the plunge into casual comic book chit-chat in spite of his earlier reservations (mostly to be cordial and not sit around in awkward gaps of delayed conversation) until he was cut off by Ymir’s assessment.

“Wait a minute…” Ymir scrutinized every detail of his face, like she was studying a map. She seemed to recognize him- or recognize his features, rather. She’d seen that same button nose, that same eye shape, same hair style but different color. And that _name_. She’d heard _Porco_ before. Hard to forget a name like that. “You look familiar,” she told him. “You wouldn’t happen to have an older brother by chance, would you?”

Porco was stunned. “I do, actually.”

“Galliard?” she tried. “Right?”

Porco nodded, and Ymir was instantly relieved.

“Oh shit! Marcel’s told me a lot about you,” she explained. “Dude, your brother and I go way back!”

“Really? You know Marcel?”

“Yeah. Same major in college. I hung out with him and Hoover a lot. We were pretty tight.”

“Hoover? You mean Bertolt Hoover?”

“The one and only. I see him almost every day now because we got on at the same place after graduation… but I kind of lost touch with Marcel. Never responds to my texts and the few times I’ve tried to call him it says his number’s been disconnected. I asked Bert what the hell was going on but, I don’t know, he gets weird every time I ask. Told me I’m better off not knowing.”

Porco’s jaw clenched, and he averted his eyes toward the serene waters of the lake, unsure how to respond.

“Ummm…” Ymir’s affable expression shifted into that of concern and confusion. “Look, I just want to know if he’s all right.” Her voice was quiet. Pleading. “How’s he been? _Where’s_ he been?”

Porco looked back with remorse. Bertolt had been right about one thing; she _was_ better off not knowing the truth. But it didn’t feel right to lie or omit the details about what had happened to his brother when faced with someone who genuinely cared and resented being left in the dark all this time.

If she was going to hear it from someone, it may as well be him.

The silence that fell between them had strained long enough, so Porco nodded toward the bench and finally gave in.

“You might want to sit down,” he advised. 

* * *

 

“Fuck.”

It was unbearably silent after Porco finished revealing Marcel’s fate.

And Ymir, utterly shocked and horrified, was rendered speechless save for a single word.

“Fuck…”

They sat on the bench, equally disheartened by the hopelessness of Marcel’s circumstances. Ymir quietly considered ways to offer consolation, but she knew all too well how meaningless apologies were. How powerless they were to change anything.

“That’s fucking awful,” she mumbled, still processing the revelation. “How are _you_ holding up?”

Porco responded the same way he always did. “Taking it one day at a time.”

It’d been about a year and a half since the accident, but it felt so much _longer_ than that.

It was excruciating.

Ymir nodded in understanding, expecting nothing more to be said. Until…

“He was admitted to the Helos Care Facility about a year ago,” Porco informed. “If you ever want to visit, just let me know.”

Ymir half-smiled at that, but the sadness buried in her voice reflected how she truly felt.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

 

Pieck was due to arrive in mere moments.

She texted Porco when she stopped for gas and a quick bite, having finally reached the outskirts of the city. She was eager to return to her usual routine; her work, her friends, and her pup. In her last text before hitting the road again she thanked Porco for his help and vowed to return the favor in kind.

Porco had insisted that wasn’t necessary but accepted the karma points anyway. Might come in handy later.

His phone buzzed again after feeding Meatball his dinner, this time from a different contact.

 **6:49pm – Ymir:** Hey its ymir. I completely forgot to ask earlier. Are you going to Bert’s housewarming party this weekend?

Porco recalled Annie’s invitation. He had to trade shifts with a co-worker to get the day off but it was worth the hassle- or else he’d never hear the end of it from the perturbed blonde.

 **6:50pm – Porco:** Yeah i’ll be there. Why?

He waited to read her response until after Meatball had finished eating, figuring he ought to wash the doggy bowls before giving them back to Pieck. He was courteous like that.

 **6:52pm – Ymir:** Okay cool! Im out with him and reiner and they freaked when I told them about how we met at the park today. Idk maybe theyre just woozy from hittin the sauce.

Porco sighed.

 **6:52pm – Porco:** Sounds about right. You have my full permission to suplex reiner if things get outta hand

 **6:53pm – Ymir:** He’d probably thank me tbh. Dude’s been really stressed out lately. Anyway, they wanted me to double check with you if you were still going to the party.

 **6:53pm – Porco:** well yeah I am but why didnt they just call or text me themselves??

 **6:54pm – Ymir:** “too scared”

 **6:54pm – Porco:** oh my god. How many drinks have they had?

 **6:54pm – Ymir:** Havent kept count but reiner hasn’t taken his shirt off yet if that gives you any idea where we’re at

 **6:55pm – Porco:** Its best not to let it get that far. Berts usually a good drunk tho. Doesn’t cry or hit on everything that moves

 **6:55pm – Ymir:**  Oh boy you didn’t go to college with him. He behaves himself now and knows his limit but believe me. I have pics..

 **6:56pm – Porco:** I don’t know what to do with that information…

 **6:56pm – Porco:** Im imagining things and I don’t like it

 **6:57pm – Ymir:** lol its nothing too scandalous but im definitely saving them for blackmail

 **6:57pm – Ymir:**  but seriously if youre not doing anything rn you should join us. I feel a bit oppressed being the only sober one and reiner “really wants to see your face”

Porco ignored the mentioning of Reiner and looked down at Meatball, amused at how he pawed at his leg like he was starved for affection.

 **6:58pm – Porco:** Maybe some other night. I gotta wait for my neighbor to get back. Not quite off the dogsitting hook yet

 **6:59pm – Ymir:** Bummer. Youre gonna miss out on some reiner karaoke. But alright, I’ll see you this weekend.

 **7:00pm – Porco:** I’m devastated

 **7:00pm – Porco:** see you guys then

* * *

 

An exhausted Pieck returned to the apartment complex not long after.

Porco helped her with her suitcase, while Meatball leapt into her arms and welcomed her back with hordes of kisses. Groaning, Pieck dragged herself into the living room and crashed face first into the plush cushions of the sofa. Home sweet home.

“How was your trip?” Porco asked, setting her suitcase down.

Meatball joined her on the couch and nuzzled his way into her arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Pieck allowed the little dog to settle himself comfortably before responding.

“The drive was long,” she replied, yawning. “But it was nice visiting my hometown and seeing my folks.” Pieck was usually the chatty type, but clearly she was too fatigued to go into detail.

Porco fidgeted with his apartment key for a moment. “Well I’m sure you want to rest up,” he said. “You need anything before I head out?” The gesture was a bit off-handed, but well-meaning nonetheless.

Pieck sat up and shook her head. “Nah, I think we’re good. I owe you big time for helping me out.”

“I don’t mind-”

“Oh Porco, stop being so modest. You took care of Meatie, you kept an eye on my place, and you fended off creepy stalkers. You gotta let me return the favor.”

“I thought you said that was your ex?!”

“Joke, my dear.”

Porco huffed. “You gonna be okay if he comes back?”

“Yes,” Pieck replied, pulling her arms up into a stretch. “We’re on good terms. No bad blood or anything.”

As she stood from the couch, presumably to walk him to the door, Meatball hopped down and scurried past her. He planted himself next to Porco, begging to be held and caressed. What an attention whore.

“Awh!” Pieck cooed. “I don’t think he’s ready for you to leave.”

Porco quirked a brow. “Gonna miss me, huh?” he quipped, offering a few pets. “I’m right next door. You’ll see me around.”

Before returning to his own apartment, Porco remembered the upcoming get-together with his friends and decided to cash in on his karma points.

“Are you still free this weekend?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the housewarming party.”

Pieck’s eyes widened in recollection. “Oh yeah! Saturday, right?”

Porco nodded.

“I have a class early that morning,” she said. “But I’m good to go after that.”

Porco inexplicably relaxed at the sight of her reassuring smile. Then she brought her hand up to cup another yawn and he hated himself for thinking it was despicably adorable.

Wow it was weird seeing her again. Had she really been gone for five days?

“Sounds like a plan,” were Porco’s parting words.

 

 

And thus ended the young Galliard’s dogsitting ventures.

He woke up the next morning to silence, devoid of any hunger-fueled barks or pleas to go out.

After a lonely breakfast, he looked into the local animal shelter’s website on his laptop and browsed through the many hopeful animals in need of a good home.

He closed the tab before he could get too invested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Ymir is therapeutic :')
> 
> and idk, i like the idea of her being friends with the warriors in AUs. I feel like she'd get along with them better than with the peeps of the 104th (excluding historia, obviously lol)


End file.
